


The Haunting of Logan Howlett

by PrinceSircastic



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009)
Genre: AU, Eventual Romance, Ghost!Remy, M/M, Paranormal, Unusual relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 99,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSircastic/pseuds/PrinceSircastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan’s always had a gift - if you could call it that - for communicating with the dead. As a child it was passed off as obscure imaginary friends, and he eventually learnt to keep quiet about the ghosts that whispered to him day by day. He’s used to never being quite alone, and he can deal with that - until the single most frustrating ghost turns up one night, and doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this for NaNoWriMo, so the updates should be pretty frequent as I'll be posting each chapter as I complete them.
> 
> Things to note about this fic:
> 
> \- Remy starts off dead, and a ghost. Hence why I labelled this 'unusual relationship'. ... You'll see.
> 
> \- There will be angst threaded in throughout later chapters, more specifically once Logan starts digging into how Remy died, etc. I can't even promise you a happy ending, but we'll see.
> 
> \- Remy can take on a corporeal form if he wishes. I refuse to believe ghosts can't manipulate that sort of thing at will. He's also not transparent or pale and typically 'ghostly'.
> 
> \- The first chapter might be a bit halting and not as smooth as I'd like, because this was difficult to get started. Please bear with me >_>

Writer's block was one of the worst things Logan had ever experienced in his life. 

He'd promised his publisher that he'd be working on a new book since the sales for his last one had shot through the roof and his readers had been eager for another, but the words and the ideas simply weren't coming to him. Every day he'd settle down in his office, open up the laptop, and sit staring at the blank word document for an hour before giving up and going to grab a beer, or a coffee, depending on the time of day. He knew it was pretty useless trying to write when he had no muse and no inspiration, and yet still he tried. 

This had been entirely expected, of course. He found his inspiration in the strangest of places – although when asked during interviews he made up some bullshit about finding it by overhearing conversations between strangers on the street, which wasn't entirely a lie but it wasn't entirely true, either - and of late there was no source for it. 

Giving up for the day, Logan picked up his empty coffee cup, and made his way down to the kitchen to refill it. 

And barely looked twice when he spotted the man perched on his kitchen table. 

"I was wondering when one of you would show up next." He murmured, mostly to himself, as he stepped up to the coffee machine and programmed it for a single cup – strong, because he had a feeling he'd need it. "It's been a couple of months." 

"Not gon' apologise fo' running behind yo' schedule." The man's voice was smooth, with a thick accent Logan easily placed as Cajun. Well, that one was new. He'd never had a Cajun in his kitchen before. 

"Alright, before you get settled, I have a few rules." Logan turned to face him, studying him for a moment – long hair, mostly tied back, and an interesting shade of coppery red, almost with a hint of rust-brown thrown in for good measure. He was dressed somewhat smartly, in a purple button-up and a black waistcoat, and slim black jeans that hugged legs that were almost impossibly long. He was an attractive man, there was no denying that, and definitely unique compared to what Logan was used to. "Rule number one – if I'm working, don't talk to me. Don't bother me at all unless the house is on fire or something to that extreme. Rule number two – stay out of my bedroom, especially when I'm in there." 

"Not gon' watch you jack off, if dat's what yo' worried 'bout." He was smirking now, and Logan resisted the urge to throw something at him. This first encounter was important, and he didn't want to get off on the wrong foot. He knew from past experience that it didn't end well if he did. 

"Shut yer mouth." He growled back, trying to keep most of the irritation out of his voice. "Rule number three – when I leave the house, you stay here. Don't follow me anywhere, don't talk to me, and don't fuck with things because I don't want questions being asked, okay?" 

"You always dis hostile?" The coffee machine beeped, and Logan turned to collect his fresh, steaming mug, taking a careful sip with a sigh of longing. 

"No. I'm actually quite pleasant to live with." He leant back against the counter, maintaining the distance between them for a moment longer. "I just know from experience that I need to lay down a few rules to make this as smooth as possible." He paused, setting the mug down so it could cool a little before he burned his tongue on the scalding liquid. "So… you got a name?" 

"Remy." One hand lifted, and long fingers brushed hair out of his eyes – eyes that were even more unique than his hair: red irises surrounded by black sclera. Logan gave a nod, and then offered a smile. 

"Logan. Logan Howlett. I'd say it's a pleasure, but…" He gestured idly, and Remy actually grinned in response. Well, at least things hadn't turned hostile between them – yet. "How long has it been?" 

"A few years." He nodded again, logging that information away for later. "Remy don' like to talk 'bout it much." 

"Understandable." Part of Logan inwardly groaned at that – this was exactly the inspiration he'd been hoping to find, and he probably wouldn't want to talk. Still, he couldn't blame the guy. "Feel free to familiarise yourself with the house or… whatever." He picked up his mug once more, taking a sip as he turned to leave the kitchen. 

"So how long have you been able to see people like Remy? An' talk to us?" He paused in the doorway and turned back to face him. 

"Since I was a kid. Don't know when it started, or why, or even how, but… one day I was playing in the attic and one of you turned up out of nowhere." Logan shrugged. "Scared the shit out of me when I realised, but I got over it." 

"An'… you help us?" 

"If I can, yeah." Logan smiled again now, trying to appear reassuring. "A lot of the time there's something left unfinished that I can help with." 

"An' if dat's not de case?" 

"Well… then we take things one step at a time." He studied Remy, not quite sure what he was looking for but knowing he wasn't seeing it either way. As he watched, Remy hopped down from the table and wandered over towards him. 

"Better get used to Remy bein' here den, Logan." He lifted a hand and patted Logan's cheek – the touch was cool, and tingled a little, and Logan had to resist the urge to reach up and grab his wrist. Even after all these years, he was still surprised when they could touch him. 

Remy made himself comfortable on Logan's sofa, sprawled out along its length, one arm bent behind his head to act as a pillow. Logan shook his head with a slight smile, thinking how natural it all seemed. No doubt people would tell him he'd lost his mind if he ever mentioned this to them, but to him there was nothing strange about it. 

"Nice place you got here." 

"Thanks." He circled around the sofa and gave Remy a pointed look until the man shifted position, sliding further up the sofa until he'd made room for Logan at the very end. He sat down, grabbing the TV remote from the coffee table as he did so. "Forgot to mention another rule – don't talk through my favourite shows." 

Remy wasn't the first ghost Logan had lived with, and he was almost certainly not going to be the last. 

\-- 

His first ghostly friend had been a young boy, a child who'd died of an illness in the very house that Logan had lived in as a child. The first time Logan had seen him, he'd thought a kid from the street had climbed in through an open window and got himself locked in the attic, but when his parents had gone to check they hadn't seen the boy at all, and told Logan not to make up stories. 

When Logan realised it was a ghost he was seeing, he'd hidden in his room for three days and refused to come out, but then the boy had come to him one night and apologised for scaring him, and Logan had realised he was lonely and afraid, just like he was. From that moment on, Logan had befriended each and every ghost that had come to him. 

To start with he could only offer his company, and his friendship. He'd talk to them, learn about them, and listen to them when they needed it. As he got older, he began to understand what ghosts were, why they were still here, and he began to try and help them. Many of them only needed help finding the door through to the next life, some had unfinished business that Logan would try and track down and help them finish. Later in his life, Logan even helped to solve police cases. There was always something he could do to help a ghost move on. 

Originally the ghosts were passed off as imaginary friends by anyone he told – especially his parents – until he learned to keep quiet about them altogether. As a child who never had many friends, live ones at least, Logan welcomed their company. Gradually it became a natural thing to have a ghost living with him, and it was certainly much easier now that he had his own place. 

The first time he had the idea to write down their stories and generate fiction from them, he'd felt guilty. He was essentially exploiting the dead, after all – but when he'd asked, they'd all consented for him to use their stories, their deaths, in a novel. His first book featuring the troubled aspiring author who lived with ghosts had been a success, and he'd been praised for the idea – little knowing that it was a reality he was living. 

People would definitely think he was crazy if he told them the truth. 

\-- 

"You always leave de dishes in de sink?" 

Logan's fingers came to a halt, hovering over his keyboard, and he took a slow, deep breath to fight back the irritation creeping in. Most ghosts barely stayed more than a few days – longer if there was a case needing to be solved or their unfinished business took some time – and all of them respected and obeyed his rules. 

But not Remy. 

"Remy, I'm working." He muttered through gritted teeth, trying to keep his focus on the laptop in front of him. He was still only outlining possible plots for his next book, the inspiration still not coming to him despite the spirit that had been living with him for the past week and a half. 

"Oui, Remy can see dat." One of Logan's hands balled into a fist as Remy eased one hip up onto the corner of Logan's desk. "Except yo' jus' starin' at de screen an' not doin' much else." 

"It's a process." Logan growled back. 

"Well, dat process could involve you doin' de dishes." Logan sat back in his chair and fixed a glare on Remy, who didn't seem at all bothered by it. "If you leave dem like dat, it only makes dem harder to clean later." 

"Why do you care so much? You won't be using them." He had expected Remy to have disappeared by now, since generally speaking the ghosts who came to him didn't hang around for very long. If he couldn't help them, they simply moved on to find someone else who could. Remy, however, didn't even show any interest in Logan's help – and he certainly wouldn't talk about his death and what led to it, so Logan wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here in the first place. 

"Remy cares 'cause it's disgustin'." He rolled his eyes, leaning over and closing the lid of Logan's laptop. "Oh, an' yo' laundry's done. You should go an' fold dat." In fact, if there was something Remy did like to discuss, it was Logan's homely habits. 

"I told you I'm working." Logan went to open up his laptop once more, but Remy placed his hand firmly on top of it, and gave Logan a look that said he wasn't going to give in. "Remy, you're already ignoring one of my rules-," 

"When Remy sees evidence o' work, he'll leave you alone." He cut in smoothly, and Logan wished he could wipe that smirk off his face. Still, as corporeal as Remy could make himself, it would be near impossible to do a damn thing to him. 

"You're an ass." He pushed up from his chair and strode through the door, not sparing a second glance at the ghost still perched on his desk. Remy was definitely different to the ghosts Logan had dealt with in the past. 

It wasn't uncommon for a ghost to be able to take on a corporeal form – though many, he'd found, could move things simply by wishing it, a number of them actually picked things up and physically moved them rather than mentally doing so. Logan had met ghosts who could not take a corporeal form, and ghosts who did not need one, so it hadn't surprised him the first time Remy had touched him, or picked something up. In fact, a lot of what movies said about ghosts was wrong – they certainly weren't transparent, either. The image of them could flicker at times, usually if the ghost was distressed, but they appeared exactly as someone walking around in a live, flesh-and-blood body. 

When Logan got to the kitchen, Remy was already perched upon the counter, holding a dishcloth in one hand and a sponge in the other. 

"T'ink dat saucepan is growin' mould." Logan ignored him and strode right past him to the fridge, intending on getting a nice, cold beer. It had been this way for the past week. At first, Remy had kept mostly to himself, wandering the house idly and seemingly obeying the rules Logan had laid out on the first day, and Logan was happy to wait around and see if he spoke first or if he'd have to prompt him into talking about why he was there. So far, Logan hadn't met a ghost yet who didn't want his help. 

But then Remy had started complaining about the state of the kitchen, the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles slowly stacking up in the corner, and Logan's nasty habit of forgetting to rinse his coffee mugs when he was done with them. Whoever Remy had been, Logan could hazard a guess that he'd been a bit obsessive over cleanliness. If that had been all, Logan could probably have let it slip, but Remy started bothering him when he was shut up in his office, and he wouldn't stop – and it wasn't as though he could lock him out, or anything. 

So far, at least, Remy hadn't followed him out of the house, which was a blessing. The last thing he wanted to deal with was strange looks from people on the street because a ghost was fucking around and only he could see and hear him. Sometimes Logan wished he knew someone else who had to deal with this, just so he had someone he could whine about it to, and have them understand. 

And Remy still wasn't talking. 

"Oh, so you gon' ignore Remy? Is dat it?" Logan straightened up from the fridge, turning as he cracked open the bottle – and received a dishcloth to the face. When he caught it as it fell, he sent a glare in Remy's direction, and realised the little shit was laughing. 

"You're lucky I can't throw this back at you." Logan grumbled, tossing it onto the counter next to where Remy was sat. He could, of course, but it wouldn't have much effect. 

"You want to, t'ough." Remy laughed, tossing the sponge back and forth in his hands. 

"I won't deny that." He stepped forward and grabbed the sponge, his fingers passing through Remy's hand as he did so – years ago, he would have shivered at the sensation, but he was far beyond used to it now. It felt like putting your hand through cold smoke, if cold smoke was a thing that actually existed. He tossed the sponge back down beside the sink, pointedly ignoring the dishes. 

"De dishes won' do demselves." Remy pointed out as Logan made to turn towards the door. 

"I wish you'd do your-fucking-self." Logan muttered under his breath as he turned, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand. 

"Dat would be physically impossible." Remy rolled his eyes, picking up the nearby dishcloth and tossing it at the back of Logan's head. "An' would give Remy no satisfaction." Logan grabbed the cloth before it hit the ground – for the second time – and found himself once again wishing he could throw it right back. If only the bastard couldn't phase in and out of a corporeal body whenever he liked. 

Instead, he chose to go back to ignoring the little shit, and he wandered on through to the living room, dropping down onto the sofa. Maybe watching some TV would drown him out. 

"You really t'ink you can jus' ignore Remy, eh? T'ought we'd been over dis." The second Logan switched on the TV, the screen blinked off. Trying not to let it wind him up, he simply switched it back on again – and, of course, Remy turned it off once more. This went on for another couple of minutes before Logan finally gave up, and tossed a cushion in the direction of his infuriating visitor.

It sailed right through him, and into the kitchen. 

"Now you gon' have to get it, eh?" That cocky Cajun bastard was actually _smirking_ at him now, and Logan wished – not for the first time – that he could smack it off his face. _If only_. 

"If I do the damn dishes, will you let me have five minutes to myself?" He sighed, exasperated. Remy didn't actually answer, but he shrugged one shoulder lightly. "Ugh – _fine_! Fine, I'll do the fucking dishes." He set his beer down and stomped past him into the kitchen, trying not to notice the smug grin on the bastard's face. He focused instead on filling the sink with water, and getting the damn dishes washed. He was aware he had an audience as he scrubbed at them, waiting for a comment on how he was using too much soap or not enough, or how he was doing it wrong somehow, but none came. He was almost finished when he noticed Remy inspecting the dishes drying on the side, and he narrowed his eyes, waiting for the comment he now knew was coming.

"You missed a spot." 

This time it was a plate that he threw.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has an unwelcome surprise, and Remy's a little shit.

Being a writer had its perks – although the work could be very hard and incredibly frustrating at times, he worked whatever hours he wanted and it often meant he could sleep in until whatever damn time he liked. Which, for Logan, was often almost midday. He stretched out in bed, one hand rubbing at his face and attempting to shield his sleep-sensitive eyes from the sudden glare of light creeping in from a gap in the curtains, and he yawned, wondering if he could maybe fall back to sleep and get another couple of hours. The laptop was calling to him, however, and he had an email from his agent that desperately needed an answer, and so he reluctantly rolled over to check the time before he dragged himself out of bed. 

And promptly fell out the other side with a shriek of surprise as he found himself face-to-face with a certain Cajun ghost. 

" _Damnit Remy_!" He pushed himself up until he could glare at his unexpected companion over the edge of the bed, hating the sound of Remy's laughter at that moment. Well, he supposed it was only a matter of time before _that_ rule was broken, too. "What did I say about not coming in here?!" 

"But you've been asleep fo' hours, an' Remy's bored." He stretched out horizontally across the bed so he was almost face-to-face with Logan once more, crossing his arms in front of him and resting his chin upon them. "You talk in yo' sleep, did you know dat?" 

"If I could kill you, I fucking would." Logan growled, untangling his legs from the sheets that he'd dragged down off the bed with him. "You nearly gave me a damn heart attack. Or was that the plan?" 

"Oh, relax. Yo' such a drama queen." Remy rolled his eyes, his legs kicking idly behind him. Logan merely glared at him some more as he picked himself up from the floor. 

"How long were you watching me sleep, exactly? You do know that's creepy, right?" He stretched, and turned towards his bathroom – he felt in need of a nice, hot shower. 

"Jus' a couple o' hours." Remy shrugged, rolling onto his back as he watched him. "You make de most adorable faces when you dream." 

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." He sighed, flipping on the light to the bathroom. "I expect you to be gone when I come out." 

"Well we bot' know dat's not gon' happen." Remy laughed, getting up off the bed and following Logan to the door. Logan rolled his eyes and stepped into the bathroom, slamming the door in Remy's face. He smiled to himself as he reached into the shower to turn it on, and then he stepped up to the mirror and inspected the state of his hair. 

And he gave a heavy sigh of frustration when Remy poked his head and shoulders _through_ the door, and raised an eyebrow at him. 

"You didn' actually expect dat to work, righ'?" 

"I was hoping you'd respect the meaning of a closed door." Logan muttered, turning his back on him as he checked the temperature of the water. Remy rolled his eyes, and stepped through the door. "Were you always this annoying?" 

"You mean when Remy was alive?" Remy quirked an eyebrow again. "Oui. Alt'ough he didn' have de benefits o' walkin' t'rough walls back den. Guess bein' dead has some perks, non?" Logan didn't quite know how to answer that, and so he went with what he did best – ignored him. Once the water was hot enough for his liking, he turned to face Remy, and gave hm a pointed look. "What?" 

"Are you gonna leave?" He gestured to the shower. "Typically this isn't done with an audience." 

"You got somet'in' to hide?" Remy smirked. "We're bot' men. Ain' like Remy ain' seen a-," 

" _Remy_." Logan cut in, exasperated. Remy rolled his eyes again. 

"Would it make you feel better if Remy covered his eyes?" He brought both hands up and placed them over his eyes, and then he grinned and spread the fingers of one hand so he could peek through. "He won' look, he promises." 

"Remy. Get out." Logan sighed, resting one hand on his hip as he waited for the Cajun to leave. "I'm not undressing until you're gone." 

"Fine, fine. Remy'll leave." Remy sighed heavily, and made a show of reluctantly stepping back out through the bathroom door. Not trusting him in the slightest, Logan hurriedly kicked off his boxers and stepped into the shower and tugged the curtain closed as quickly as possible. 

He was really beginning to hate that damn Cajun. 

At least he was left to shower in peace – and he took his time, enjoying the privacy for as long as possible until he knew he'd been in there long enough. Switching off the shower, he tugged back the curtain and stepped out, reaching for the towel he'd left on the hook set into the wall – but his fingers closed around empty space instead. 

"Lookin' fo' dis?" With a startled yelp, Logan almost lost his balance, and he glared furiously at the smug spirit perched upon the washbasin with Logan's towel clutched in ghostly fingers. "Y'know, dere's really no need fo' you to have been so modest." Remy smirked, looking Logan up and down with something that was definitely appreciation in his eyes. Cheeks burning hot, Logan reached out and snatched the towel from him, hurriedly tying it around his waist. 

"I thought I told you to get out! How long have you been sat there?" He hissed, trying to focus his mind on being angry rather than think too much about the look Remy had given him, and how he had actually _blushed_. 

"A while." Remy grinned, hopping down off the washbasin and stepping right into Logan's personal space. "Why so embarrassed?" 

"I'm not-," he cut himself off with a sigh of frustration, and took a step back to put some distance between them. "You ever heard of personal space?" 

"You got a problem wit' anot'er man bein' so close, Logan?" Remy was grinning now, and it made Logan uncomfortable. "O' maybe it's not a problem, as such… not a bad one, at least, eh?" 

"I hate you, you know that?" Logan growled, quickly stepping around him and opening the bathroom door. "Can't you go bother someone else for five minutes?" 

"An' where would de fun be in dat, eh?" He laughed, moving to perch on the edge of the bathtub now, arms crossed over his chest. Logan studied him for a moment and then groaned, wandering through into his bedroom and shutting the bathroom door behind him. 

He kept his back turned to the door as he hurriedly picked out some clothes for the day, and since it was almost inevitable that Remy would be watching him, he awkwardly managed to pull on some boxers underneath the towel. At least Remy wouldn't be leering at him now. 

It wasn't that it made him uncomfortable to be looked at by another man like that – in fact many times in his life he'd welcomed it – but it was something entirely different when it was a _ghost_ leering at him. Especially an attractive one. He pulled the towel from his waist and dried himself off as best he could, and then he tossed it onto the floor and grabbed a pair of jeans, slinging them up over his hips. 

"You jus' gon' leave dat towel dere?" Groaning inwardly, he turned to meet Remy's unimpressed gaze. "Not even gon' hang it up?" 

"Is it just your mission to annoy the shit out of me?" He growled, ignoring the towel as he dragged a hand through his wet hair, sweeping it back so it wouldn't drip into his eyes. "Because if so, great job." 

"Jus' sayin', if you leave de towel dere, it won' dry properly an' den-," 

"It'll get mouldy or something, right? Yeah, I know." Logan rolled his eyes. "Ever occur to you that I wasn't going to leave it there?" 

"Considerin' yo' usual habits in dis house, de t'ought never crossed Remy's mind." Remy smirked. 

"Oh, shut yer mouth." He muttered, grabbing a shirt and tugging it on – usually he'd happily wander around his house bare-chested, but Remy's earlier leering had made him a little self-conscious. "Hey, you can pick things up – why don't you go hang it up?" The Cajun raised an eyebrow and gave Logan a look that said he'd lost his mind. 

"Remy ain' yo' housemaid." 

"May as well do something useful while you're here." Logan grinned to himself as he strode past the ghost towards his bedroom door, intending to go and grab some breakfast – or would it be lunch now? 

"Did you actually jus' sass Remy?" Of course Remy would follow him. "Is dat a t'ing dat happened?" Logan was still grinning to himself as he jogged down the stairs, and Remy slipped down through the floor so he'd appear in front of him at the bottom. "Didn' know you had it in you." 

"Maybe I'm just picking it up from you." Logan smirked at him, stepping through him with only the slightest of shivers. Remy whirled around and scowled at him. 

"Dat's considered rude, y'know. Jus' 'cause you can walk t'rough Remy don' mean you should." He followed him through into the kitchen, hopping up onto the counter as Logan programmed the coffee machine. "You wouldn' walk into someone on de street."

"How do you know? You never leave the house." Logan wandered back through the house to collect his mail and the newspaper, flipping through it all as he returned to the kitchen. 

"Only 'cause you don' let Remy leave." Remy rolled his eyes, stealing the newspaper from him and opening it up. 

"You've broken every other rule so far, what's stopping you from breaking that one?" Logan raised an eyebrow, amused at how domestic this was. 

"Remy gets de feelin' you'd ignore him, an' it's less fun to fuck wit' you if you don' react." Remy shrugged, idly turning the pages. "Alt'ough it would be interestin' to see how long you could last wit'out swearin' at Remy, o' t'rowin' somet'in' at him." He smirked now, and Logan merely rolled his eyes. 

"Great. So now you're gonna follow me everywhere?" 

"Non." Remy shook his head, setting the newspaper to one side. "Remy don' like goin' outside much. Dere's not much fun in bein' invisible to everyone." 

"Used to being the centre of attention?" Logan sipped gratefully at his coffee, and dug out some bread to make some toast. Remy watched him for a moment, a curious look on his face. 

"What gave you dat impression?" 

"A few things." Logan shrugged, turning to face him. "You don't like being ignored, for one, and you also seem to prefer it when people look at you when they talk to you." When Remy said nothing, he went on. "Those clothes you're wearing look expensive, top-brand. That says you come from money, and people with money are often in the spotlight. Also, your general attitude and posture suggests you're used to people looking at you, paying attention to you." He smiled. "Am I wrong?" 

"Dat's impressive." Remy smiled back at him, one hand toying idly with his waistcoat. "An' oui, technically true. Remy's used to people payin' attention to him, an' he definitely don' like bein' ignored." 

"So where was I wrong? You don't come from money?" 

"Non, not dat, not exactly. Remy's used to bein' in de spotlight, so to speak, but it wasn' 'cause o' de money." He shrugged one shoulder. "Jus' come from a well-known family in de city, an' everyone knew who Remy was." 

"And who's that?" So far, Remy hadn't given him a full name – and although Logan hadn't exactly asked outright, he had a feeling Remy wouldn't give it. 

"Dey called him De Prince." Remy smirked. 

"Jesus… tell me you ain't royalty." Logan laughed, only half-joking. Remy laughed with him, and shook his head. 

"Not de kind yo' t'inkin' of. No crowns an' kingdoms fo' Remy, non. Jus' a title dat meant somet'in' to people down in New Orleans." He reached over and hit a button on the toaster, and Logan's toast popped up, just the right shade of golden. "Any longer an' dat would be burnt." 

"I might like my toast burnt." Logan muttered as he took it from the toaster. "So you come from a famous family and people called you The Prince. No wonder you have an ego the size of Texas." That was something to go on, at least. He still didn't have a full name, or any details about his death, but he knew just that little bit more about him, so it was a start. 

"An' you say dat Remy's de ass." Remy rolled his eyes, handing Logan a knife as he fetched the butter from the fridge. 

"Just tellin' it like it is." He eyed the knife warily. "Why are you being helpful?" 

"… Is dere anyt'in' Remy can do wit'out you complainin'?" He raised an eyebrow, gesturing with the knife until Logan took it from him. "Yo' actin' like you should be suspicious if Remy's bein' nice." 

"All things considered, I'd say that was justified." Logan muttered, still a little wary. 

"Keep dis up an' Remy won' be nice to you again." Remy huffed a little, crossing his arms over his chest. Logan almost expected him to be _pouting_. When Remy realised Logan was staring at him, he raised an eyebrow again. "What?" 

"Nothing, nothing. You're just…" Logan shrugged, gesturing idly with the knife. "… really something." 

\-- 

Occasionally, Logan found himself needing the company of living people. Most of his old friends had spread out over the years, and so he rarely saw them except for when they were passing through town, or made it to special events. He did, however, have at least one close friend in town, and she was always the one he turned to. 

Ororo Munroe wasn't a woman Logan ever wanted to cross. She was fierce, and strong, and definitely wouldn't stand for anyone's shit – which is probably why she made a great high school teacher. Logan had met her when she'd asked his agent if he could come into her school and talk about his book and what it was like to be a published author, and they'd hit it off the moment they'd met. Ororo was a fellow writer – although she leaned more towards journalism than fiction – and they'd bonded over their love of the same books. It hadn't taken long for her to become a very good friend of his, and he was grateful to have her. 

It was always a risk having people in his house when he had ghostly company, but he couldn't exactly tell her not to come over without having to explain why, and he could never think of a suitable reason – and so he had to just hope that the ghost would behave. So far, they'd all kept to themselves elsewhere in the house, and nothing had gone wrong. 

But of course Remy wasn't like other ghosts. 

"So, how's the new book coming along? Any ideas yet?" Ororo always looked magnificent, no matter where she was or how she was dressed. If Logan had been that way inclined, he might have once tried his luck with her, because there was no denying how gorgeous she was. He knew she'd been grading papers before he'd called, because her hair was pulled back into an untidy ponytail and she was wearing a shirt he knew to have come from her 'lazy day' collection. 

"Not exactly. I'm working on a few things." Logan spared a glance towards the kitchen, where he'd last seen Remy idly wandering around, tossing an apple back and forth in his hands. He'd warned Remy to stay out of sight – to which Remy had given him a look that said ' _really_?' – and not to do anything disruptive, and so far he was at least staying out of the way. For now. "But we'll see how that pans out." 

"I'm sure you'll figure it all out in the end. You always do." She smiled, patting the space beside her on the sofa. Logan hesitated, part of him wanting to remain in a place where he could see Remy, but also not wanting to seem rude or raise any questions he couldn't answer. He decided to take the risk of letting Remy out of his sight, and sat down next to her. "I'm going to ask again – have you considered adding in a romantic interest for your main character? I know that's not the point of your books, but it might give you something to consider." 

"I don't know, 'Ro… I'll think about it." 

"You always say that, Logan." She laughed. "Just… I think it might be an interesting twist." 

"Maybe." He shrugged one shoulder. "Anyway, what was it you wanted me to look at?" She nodded, suddenly thrust into teacher-mode, and pulled a handful of papers from her bag. 

"I set a creative writing assignment last week, and I was just wondering if you could take a look at these and tell me what you think. I've already graded them, so whatever you say won't affect how they're marked, but there's some talent here that I'd like to try and nurture and encourage." Logan took the papers from her, and quickly flicked through them. "I don't need them back for a couple of days, so whenever you get a couple of minutes…" 

"I'll take a look, yeah." He smiled, setting them on the coffee table. In the corner of his eye, he saw Remy dance across the kitchen to music only he could hear, and he quickly cleared his throat. "Would you like a drink? Coffee or something?" 

"Oh… yes, actually. Coffee, please. That'd be lovely." He stood up and made his way into the kitchen, subtly closing the door behind him. 

"I told you to stay out of sight." He hissed as he grabbed two mugs and punched some buttons on the coffee machine. 

"Not like she can see Remy, anyway." Remy rolled his eyes, dropping down into a chair at the table a little over-dramatically. "Remy's _bored_ , Logan." 

"Poor you." He muttered, not looking at him. 

"How long is she gon' be here? An' why can' Remy go in dere? She won' know!" 

"Are you seriously whining because I'm giving my attention to someone else?" Logan turned to him finally, both eyebrows raised. Remy didn't answer, and so Logan went back to making the coffee, smirking to himself. "I'm sure you can entertain yourself for half an hour." He paused, turning back to him. "Can ghosts still… y'know?" 

"Wouldn' you like to know?" Remy shot back, quirking an eyebrow. "O' maybe you'd like to find out, eh?" 

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that." He picked up both mugs and paused, giving him his best stern expression. "Stay here, stay quiet, and stay out of sight." Remy groaned in frustration and sank lower into his chair, waving him off. Taking that to mean he'd behave, Logan opened up the door with a clever manoeuvre with the toe of his boot, and carried the coffee through into the living room. At least with the door closed, Remy was less likely to be a distraction. 

Of course, that was almost certainly wishful thinking. 

The first time a dull thud sounded from behind the kitchen door, Logan ignored it, and Ororo didn't seem to pay it much attention. The second time, she stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at the door, and Logan inwardly groaned. 

"I think I left the back door open… just a sec." He jumped up and slipped into the kitchen, and glared at the ghost sprawled on his kitchen floor, a tennis ball grasped in one hand. Logan didn't question where he'd found it – he used to play tennis a lot, and he knew he still had his racquet somewhere upstairs. "Are you kidding me? Really?" 

"Told you. Remy's bored." He shrugged unapologetically, tossing the ball up into the air and catching it. 

"Then go and haunt someone for five minutes, rattle some chains, torment a teenage girl – just _keep quiet_." Logan tried to snatch the ball the next time Remy threw it, but the damn Cajun had lightning reflexes. "I'm serious, Remy." 

"Fine, fine." Remy sighed heavily, tossing the ball into the air again. "But you know dat ghosts don' actually do de whole rattlin' chains t'ing, right?" Logan opened his mouth to reply, and then changed his mind and simply exited the kitchen again. 

"Sorry about that. The hinge is a bit dodgy lately." He hoped Remy would behave from now on. "Been meaning to take a look at it." He spared a final glance at the kitchen door, and sighed. 

"So… tell me about these ideas you've been having for your next book." Glad of the distraction, Logan sat back down, and ran through the few ideas he'd managed to come up with – leaving out the part about the annoying ghost who'd moved in, of course. 

\-- 

"Is she gone? Can Remy come out an' play now?" 

"You're like a child, you know that?" Logan rolled his eyes, dumping the empty coffee mugs in the sink. He considered rinsing them out, but then he remembered how much it annoyed Remy when he left them there, and so he did just that. "Guess you're gonna have to learn that sometimes daddy has to give his attention to other people." 

"Go fuck yo'self, Logan." Remy was sprawled on top of the table now, the tennis ball still clutched in one hand. He had at least behaved himself whilst he'd been going through novel ideas with 'Ro, so Logan couldn't be too hard on him, he supposed. 

"Oh come on, it was for barely forty minutes…" 

"Forty-five. An' a half." Remy rolled his eyes, sitting up and glaring at him. "Remy had to be quiet fo' forty-five minutes." 

"Don't forget that half." Logan smirked to himself. "That must have been real hard work for you." 

"Next time, Remy's gon' try dat rattlin' chains t'ing. See how well you play dat off as somet'in' else." 

"Are you… are you _actually_ sulking about this?" Logan shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "Do you really hate being left on your own that much?" 

"Oui." Remy huffed a little, crossing his arms over his chest. Logan raised an eyebrow, surprised. 

"But it was only for-," 

"When you spend years watchin' yo' family fall apart 'cause yo' dead, an' dey can' see you or talk to you, but yo' righ' dere in front o' dem, you can come back an' tell Remy it's childish to hate bein' ignored by de one person who _can_ see him!" Logan had never actually pissed a ghost off before, though he'd seen them angry, and he knew it could be dangerous. Remy's normally solid image flickered and went vaguely transparent for a split second, and Logan felt a peculiar prickling on the back of his neck as the atmosphere around him shifted. 

"Remy-," 

"Don' bot'er." And just like that, he was gone. Logan had long ago discovered that when ghosts disappeared, there wasn't a puff of smoke and they didn't fade into nothing – one minute they were there, and the next they weren't. That was that. No special effects, no drama, just… gone. 

It could have been much worse, of course. Logan knew all about vengeful spirits, and how intense a ghost's rage could be. Things could have been broken, thrown around, and Remy wouldn't have even had to lift a finger to do it. He knew he should focus on being thankful that he'd vanished before any of that had happened, but he couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Maybe he had been a little insensitive, all things considered – but hey, the ghost was an annoying little shit and he got right under Logan's skin with the simplest of things. 

He stared at the tennis ball left on top of the table, and he sighed. It was pointless lingering on what had happened, and there was no way he could pull Remy back to apologise. He'd just have to wait for him to reappear – if he would. Until then, he could get some work done, and continue as normal. He wandered back through to the living room and gathered up the papers 'Ro had left with him, and jogged up the stairs to his office, trying to ignore the eerie quietness of the house. When he wandered down to the kitchen for a cold beer an hour later, something felt off – and it took him a moment to notice what it was. 

The coffee mugs he'd left in the sink were set to one side, still dripping from where someone had washed them. 

"Remy…" Logan sighed, picking up one of the mugs for no reason other than to confirm he wasn't imagining it. He found himself smiling, and he set it back down and raised his voice so it would be heard throughout the house. "Thought you said you weren't my housemaid!" 

When a tennis ball connected with the back of his head, Logan grinned despite the pain. 

He turned, rubbing the spot the ball had hit, and only grinned more when his eyes found the Cajun perched on the edge of the table, a scowl on his face. Logan bent and picked up the ball, tossing it into the air very slightly and catching it again. He stared down at it for a moment, and then he tossed it lightly in Remy's direction, smiling when the Cajun caught it. 

"De next time you piss Remy off, he's gon' break somet'in'." Remy murmured, his tone casual but weighted with that promise, and Logan gave a little nod. 

"For what it's worth, I… I'm sorry." Logan was never good with apologies. He always felt awkward and he never really knew what to say without sounding like an ass or like he didn't really mean it. 

"Let's jus' fo'get it, eh?" Remy shrugged, tossing the ball between his hands idly. 

"Sounds good to me." Logan smiled again, feeling a little less awkward. Remy, it seemed, was as uncomfortable with apologies as he was. "So, uh… I'm gonna go watch some crap TV for a while. Just… so you know." And suddenly the awkwardness came back full force, and he hurriedly distracted himself by fetching that cold beer, telling himself his cheeks weren't feeling a little warm. 

It had been an invitation of sorts, really, and Logan's idea of a peace offering. Remy always seemed to respect the rule of not talking through his favourite shows, and often joined him on the sofa where he'd sit in comfortable silence with him. During those moments, it was easy to forget that Remy was, in fact, deceased. 

He dropped down onto the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table, flicking through the channels until he settled on a movie he hadn't seen for many years – a comedy, if he remembered right, and something that required very little brain power to watch. When Remy wandered through and dropped down next to him, Logan smiled. 

"Remy hasn' seen dis in a long time." He slid further down on the sofa, mimicking Logan's position by putting his feet up on the coffee table. Logan turned to look at him as he laughed at a line in the movie, and found himself grinning in response. 

It was really, _really_ good to hear him laugh. 

\-- 

He had only meant to do it the once, out of sheer boredom, but Remy found himself slipping into Logan's bedroom that night after he'd gone to bed. He poked his head through the wall first, just in case he was still awake – he didn't really want to be caught sneaking in like this – but upon seeing the still figure beneath the sheets, he stepped through into the room and stood beside the bed. 

This was bordering on weird, and he knew that, but he couldn't help it. Logan looked so at peace when he slept – no scowl or frown graced his features here. With a soft sigh that was not unlike a breath of wind, Remy gently lowered himself onto the bed beside him, wishing he could feel the warmth he knew would be radiating from Logan's body. 

He could get a feel of it in a corporeal body, of course. He could feel the weight of something in his hand, feel the texture against his skin, and if he sat close enough to Logan he could feel that warm, comforting body temperature he'd once had himself. But a corporeal body was too risky right now – as he was, he had no weight to dip the bed and alert Logan to the presence of another. The last thing he wanted was to wake him now. 

One of the things Remy missed the most was physical contact. It was something he'd always craved when he was alive – a hug, the touch of one hand against another, even something as simple as sitting close enough to someone for his knee to rest against theirs. He liked being in contact with another person, loved their warmth against his own. Of course, sex had been pure heaven for him. Skin-on-skin, bodies grinding together, lips locked and hands roaming, the ultimate connection between two people… the first time he'd experienced that, it had become an addiction. 

He'd made a reputation for himself, of course. A ladies man on the surface, always flirting, always touching, tempting, teasing – and an animal between the sheets, driving his partner to complete pleasure, drinking in every second, treasuring every kiss and every touch. Those who knew him better knew of his love of a male body against his own, of those strong, hard figures spread beneath him, above him, astride him. He hadn't cared if he picked up man or woman – he only cared about the end result, of that ultimate physical connection. 

He'd always been one for cuddling, too – something many of his partners hadn't seemed to mind in the slightest. Often, post-orgasm cuddling would lead into round two. 

That craving for physical contact hadn't gone away just because he was dead. In fact, it had only gotten worse. He'd wondered if that was why he could take on a corporeal form, so he could touch things and touch people and maintain that need for physical contact. Of course, it had been difficult to achieve that when everyone around him was blind to his continued existence. The most he could manage was gentle touches whilst they slept – a tender kiss to the cheek, a hand ghosting over their hair – when all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around them and hold them close. _Especially his Papa_. 

It had been torture. The one thing he loved more than anything had been taken away from him, and he hated it – but then he'd come to Logan. Logan could see him, could talk to him, and Remy finally had someone he could touch again. Of course there were still some boundaries between them, but even just sitting side by side with him was enough for now. 

He rolled onto his side, watching Logan as he slept. Remy wouldn't deny it – Logan was exactly the type of man he would have sought out in the past. More than once he'd found himself wondering how things would have gone if they'd met under slightly different circumstances, hoping it would have ended in a good, hard fuck in the back of a car. 

Sexual attraction was definitely something Remy could still feel, despite his situation. 

He sighed, reaching out and gently stroking a hand along the exposed curve of one shoulder, smiling as Logan shivered a little at the touch. He'd almost certainly never feel the fire of passion with another warm, solid body again, but for now, he could settle with this. He closed his eyes, hovering on the border between corporeal and incorporeal, sighing again as he felt Logan's warmth creep in. 

He'd let himself have this moment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan learns something new, and Remy has a story to tell.

Logan rolled onto his back as he woke, humming softly as he stretched out, wondering if he could waste a few extra minutes in bed before he had to get up. He gave a content sigh, wriggling under the blankets and enjoying the warmth of the bed, quite happy to drift off back to sleep. 

"Rise an' shine, Sleepin' Beauty!" 

"God- _damnit Remy!_ " He groaned, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at the ghost who had appeared at the end of his bed. It sailed through him, of course, but it was satisfying enough. "Are you going to make a habit of this?" 

"Depends. You gon' sleep past eleven every mornin'?" He perched himself on the end of the bed, sitting cross-legged whilst he pretended to inspect his nails. "Yo' wastin' precious daylight, y'know." 

"I don't give a shit about daylight." He groaned, sitting up and dragging a hand through his hair. "I can sleep until noon if I want to." Remy watched him as he stood and wandered over to his closet, rummaging around before he dug out an old t-shirt and some shorts. He figured if he was awake, he might as well go for a run. "I'm heading out. Don't follow me." 

"Oui, oui, whatever. Remy don' go outside, remember?" He smirked. "Alt'ough it would be fun to watch you get all hot an' sweaty." 

"Shut it." He pulled on the clothes quickly, sending a glare in Remy's direction although it was only half-hearted. "Try not to break anything or burn the house down while I'm gone." 

"An' where's de fun in dat?" He ignored that, bending to pick up the pillow he'd thrown earlier, and he tossed it back onto the bed – through Remy once more. "Don' be gone too long, sweetie." He laughed as Logan flipped him off, and he flopped back onto the bed as Logan disappeared through the door. 

\-- 

Running had always been an escape for Logan. 

Whenever he needed to clear his head or calm down when angry or upset, he'd go for a run. Something about the focus of where he was going, the pace, and the general peace just eased his mind and let him get away from everything for an hour or two. 

Despite this, he found his mind drifting to Remy, and no matter what he tried, his brain wouldn't shut down and just enjoy the run like usual. He couldn't stop wondering about who Remy was, and why he was so keen on sticking around when it was obvious he didn't want Logan's help. Or maybe he did, and just didn't want to ask for it. Logan got the vibe that Remy had been incredibly stubborn and prideful in his life, and almost certainly not used to asking others for help. Hell, he probably expected people to know what he wanted without having to ask for it. 

But at the same time he didn't have the same sort of arrogance that Logan associated with people like that. He didn't look down his nose at Logan – the snide remarks about his housekeeping didn't count – and he didn't seem to hold himself above others. It was difficult to judge who he had been in his life without knowing more about him. 

If only he had a surname. Logan had ways of tracking people down – another perk of being a writer, especially since no one asked too many questions after you told them it was for a book – and he'd often found out enough about past spirits just by doing a simple search. But Remy was still keeping that to himself, and Logan was still sure that even if he asked he wouldn't get an answer. That was enough to spike his curiosity, but he couldn't do much about it even if he tried – how many men would he find in New Orleans with the name 'Remy'? 

He'd wanted to Google him, at least – and he had. Typing in 'New Orleans Remy' had come up with nothing of use, and he'd known it had been a long shot. Didn't stop him being disappointed, though. He knew he'd have to try and get more information out of him eventually. Remy couldn't stay with him forever, not when there was somewhere better he needed to be. Logan had heard about ghosts who chose to remain tied to this world, either to keep watch over loved ones or simply because they were afraid to move on, but he'd never actually encountered one himself. He'd wondered on more than occasion if Remy was keeping things to himself because he didn't want to move on. 

Short of driving across the country to New Orleans and asking around – and he couldn't exactly get a photo to show people in an attempt to trigger memories – there was little he could do. He'd have to question Remy, and that was going to be difficult. He didn't want to scare him away, not when he felt there was something he could do to help him. Maybe he could try getting to know him more as a person, and work from there. Remy might not want to talk about what happened to him and why, but he might be more comfortable to just talk about himself, his family, his life – before it ended. 

Logan came to a stop just outside the park, and took a breather and a swig of water from his bottle. He leant back against the railings surrounding the park, and watched the world go by for a moment or two. He did this on occasion, too – watching strangers go about their day, blissfully unaware that the paranormal was all around them. People scoffed about ghost films supposedly based on true events, trying to explain away how it never happened or it was just someone's imagination. Whilst Logan had no authority on many of the stories told through these films, he certainly couldn't deny the possibility that they were, in fact, true. 

He'd often thought about what it might have been like to grow up as unaware as the people around him. When he'd gone camping with his classmates on a school trip, they'd told each other ghost stories late at night, after lights out, and whilst the other kids had been clutching at their sleeping bags and giving worried glances at each other, Logan had sat at the back trying to understand what made the stories so scary. He knew better than to speak up, however. He still remembered the looks he's gotten when he'd piped in and told them that most ghosts only want company and someone to notice them. 

Would he have lived a normal life? Would he have had more friends as a kid, and been closer to his parents? Would he have ever gotten into writing and become an author? That was unlikely, considering the topic of his books, but one could never be too certain about that. It was hard to imagine a life where he couldn't see and talk to spirits. Life would probably be unnecessarily boring if that were the case, really. 

With a slight sigh, Logan took another drink, and then turned in the direction of home. 

He paused at his front door, enjoying an extra thirty seconds of peace, knowing that as soon as he stepped inside he'd have a Cajun hovering over his shoulder and demanding his attention. Remy was sort of like a dog, in that respect, although in terms of personality he was probably more like a cat. An asshole cat, definitely. He laughed a little to himself at that, and finally put the key in the lock, and stepped inside. 

"Honey, I'm home!" He called out, still grinning at his own thoughts, and he kicked the door shut just in time to see Remy emerge from the living room. 

"Have a good run?" He smirked, eyeing him up and down. "You look like you could use anot'er shower, eh?" 

"… I don't even know how to respond to that." Logan rolled his eyes, slipping past him to get to the kitchen. He set his water bottle down on the table and bent over the sink to splash some water on his face. When he straightened up, Remy was holding out a cloth for him. A little wary, Logan took it and dried his hands. "Thanks." 

"Jus' provin' dat Remy can be helpful." He shrugged. "Also Remy might have folded yo' laundry an' ironed one o' yo' shirts." Logan raised an eyebrow at that. 

"Really?" He smirked. "Should I get you a little apron to wear, too?" He received a cloth to the face for that remark. 

"Well it's obvious you don' even know what an iron is fo'." He huffed. "Dat t'ing had mo' creases dan a pleated skirt." He shook his head, as if unable to believe it. "How can you let yo' shirts get like dat, Logan? It's disgraceful." 

"Oh, let me guess, you had all of yours pressed and ironed and kept in a super special closet where god forbid anything should ever touch them?" He smirked when Remy scowled at him. "I don't know, I guess I just don't wear smart shirts very often." 

"Oui, Remy can see dat. Most o' yo' wardrobe is wife-beaters an' plaid." He sighed. "Alt'ough Remy did see a suit in de back dat has probably seen better days." 

"Well I haven't had to do any publicity for a book for a while." He shrugged one shoulder. "And hey – there's nothing wrong with plaid." He wandered back through the house, intending to go and grab a shower. 

"Sure, if yo' a lumberjack." Remy rolled his eyes, following him up the stairs. Logan chose to ignore that, heading straight for his bathroom to start up the shower. "You want Remy to stay out here?" 

"That would be preferred, yes." Logan turned to him, one hand on the bathroom door. "But I know you're not going to, so at least wait until I'm in the shower." He shut the door before Remy could answer, and stripped down, tossing the shirt and shorts into the laundry hamper. "I mean it, you stay out there!" He called through the door as he stepped into the shower, yanking the curtain around – just loud enough so a certain ghost might hear it. 

"You really shouldn' be so embarrassed y'know." Logan smirked to himself, knowing Remy had walked through into the bathroom. Of course he had. "Not like yo' unattractive." Logan definitely felt himself blush at that. 

There was no denying that Remy was absolutely _gorgeous_ – or had been, at least. The combination of the long, silky hair and cheekbones sharp enough to cut diamonds on was bad enough, but throw in those fascinating eyes and the smooth purr of his voice and it was enough to make any man drop his pants on command. And from someone so sinfully beautiful, it was definitely a compliment to hear that. 

"I just enjoy a bit of privacy. Is that so bizarre to you?" He called back when he realised he'd probably been silent for a bit too long. "Did you shower with a bunch of guys on a regular basis or something?" 

"Sometimes." Oh, he could practically _hear_ the smile on that bastard's face. "If Remy had been a bad, bad boy de nigh' befo'." 

"Oh great. Now I get to hear about all your crazy sex adventures, huh?" His face was burning hot again at the thought of it, and he willed himself to think of other things before he had a problem on his hands. That would definitely be a first – he'd never thought of a ghost in such a way before. Of course, he'd never dealt with a ghost like Remy before. 

"If dat's what you want. Remy's got plenty to tell." Logan rolled his eyes, silently wishing the conversation wouldn't go further than that. "Not jus' wit' de boys, eit'er. Wit' de ladies, too. Sometimes bot' at once." 

"Lucky you." He replied dryly, hoping his tone of voice would put Remy off going into any more detail. 

"Like dis one time, when Remy was sandwiched between dis lovely lil' lady wit' de most skilled hands an' a guy wit' de biggest-," Logan yanked back the curtain just enough to poke his head around it, and he glared at the ghost lazily sprawled on the floor, back pressed up against the door. 

"I really don't want to hear about your sex life, Remy." 

"Why not?" Remy grinned. "It's bound to be mo' excitin' dan yo's, eh?" 

"And what makes you think that?" 

"Remy's been here fo' a lil' while, an' de only visitor you've had is dat stunnin' woman who you clearly ain' bangin'." He smirked. "You don' go out much, an' never at night, an' yo' wound up so tight it's clear you ain' had any fo' a while." He grinned again. "See, Remy can do dat analysing stuff, too." 

"You've only been here for a week and a half." Logan pointed out. 

"So? Remy would have been t'oroughly fucked at least eight times by now." Logan hoped Remy was exaggerating for the sake of the conversation, but from the look on his face and his casual attitude to sex, it was highly likely that he was telling the truth. "Maybe dat's what you need, eh? You should go out tonigh', pick up a pretty lady." He gave a sly smile. "O' maybe a pretty guy." 

"Shut up." He yanked the curtain back across, if only to hide that damn smile from view. 

"Knew it!" Remy laughed. "Remy can pick 'em up a mile away. Is dat why yo' so embarrassed to be naked in front o' Remy?" 

"Shut up, Remy." He groaned, trying to distract himself by getting on with his shower. 

"You definitely need to get laid, Logan." He laughed again. "Want Remy to head into de town an' see if he can find a good bar o' club fo' you?" 

"That won't be necessary, Remy." He just wanted this conversation to end, now. He wasn't at all embarrassed about his sexual orientation – never had been – but it _was_ embarrassing for Remy to be talking about it. 

"You already familiar wit' dem?" The curtain was yanked back again, and Logan glared at him once more. 

"Can we please talk about something else?" 

"Not'in' to be ashamed of, Logan." Remy grinned. "Bet yo' real popular wit' de boys." 

"Remy, please." He groaned. "My sex life is not up for discussion." Now it was Remy's turn to groan, and he slid further down the door, sulking a little. 

"So Remy can' talk 'bout his sex life, o' yo's? Where's de fun in dat?" He scowled up at Logan. "Yo' no fun." 

"I'm sure there's something else you could talk about." Logan rolled his eyes, pulling the curtain back across again. "Talk about yourself. You'll like that, I'm sure." When Remy said nothing, Logan decided to take a risk and press the subject. "What about your family?" 

"What 'bout dem?" The tone of the conversation had definitely changed, but Logan wasn't going to let this chance escape him. 

"Well… talk about them. I'm interested." Remy remained silent, and Logan sighed. "I've got a half-brother somewhere, y'know. I've only actually met him once or twice. He's older than me – technically a bastard, since my dad and his mom weren't married or anything when he was born. Pretty sure he was an accident, or, well… unexpected. That's a nicer term for it." 

"Remy's got a brot'er, too." Logan grinned to himself – success. "Younger, t'ough. Henri." There was a pause, and a sigh. "We didn' really get on dat much, but sometimes… well, we got closer as we got older, an' bot' grew out o' dat silly sibling rivalry t'ing." 

"I bet he looked up to you, though, even if he didn't want to admit it." 

"Oui, maybe. Papa always said dat Henri was jus' jealous 'cause Remy had t'ings he didn'." Remy sighed again, and the sound tugged at Logan's heart. That was a sigh of longing, a sigh of grief and loneliness. "Remy got into de better school, was mo' popular wit' de ot'er kids, an' later wit' de ladies. Remy was better at de t'ings Henri wanted to be good at, dat sort o' t'ing." 

"So you guys fought a lot, huh?" 

"Oui. Remy tried not to, 'cause he hated fightin' wit' him, but sometimes Henri jus' drove him up de wall. Dere was one t'ing, t'ough…" When Remy next spoke, Logan didn't need to be looking at him to see the smile. "No one messed wit' de brot'ers. If someone fucked wit' one, de ot'er would be on deir back in a heartbeat. Family always sticks toget'er where Remy comes from, regardless o' anyt'in' else." Logan smiled, and shut off the shower, tugging the curtain back just a little. 

"That's definitely something." He took the towel Remy held out to him, and appreciated that Remy was, in fact, looking the other way. Maybe he wasn't as much of an ass as Logan had first thought. "Wish I could say the same about my family. We kinda… all went our separate ways, after a while. I was never that close with my parents in the first place, but… guess we drifted after I went to college and got my own place." 

"Is dat 'cause dey t'ink yo' crazy?" Remy grinned, perching on the edge of the tub as Logan rubbed a second towel over his hair. 

"Well… they didn't think I was normal, that's for sure." Logan smiled. "They kept waving it off as an overactive imagination, but I'm almost certain they knew something wasn't right. I didn't really tell them about talking to ghosts after I realised it wasn't a common thing." He stepped out of the bathroom, wandering across to his closet to find something to wear. Remy, of course, followed him – and flopped down onto the bed. 

"So you didn' tell anyone?" 

"Nope. Figured that'd be a bit… weird." Logan shrugged, picking out some jeans and a plaid shirt, and trying not to admit to himself that maybe Remy was right. Maybe he needed something in his closet that wasn't plaid. "Did you have that one weird kid in school? The kid no one really wanted to be friends with?" 

"Oui, dere were a couple o' dose. Probably hundreds in every school, really." Remy smiled. "Remy always used to talk to dem, t'ough. Weird kids are interestin'." 

"Well, I didn't want to be that weird kid that nobody wanted to know. I barely had many friends as it was." He hurriedly dressed, tossing the towel back into the bathroom, knowing Remy would probably complain about it within the next ten minutes. "A group of us once camped out in a haunted house for a dare when we were teenagers." 

"An' was it haunted?" Remy sat up, grinning now. 

"Haunted? No. But there was a ghost in there. He seemed real tired of dumb kids running around and trying to scare each other." Logan laughed at the memory. "He was really surprised when I apologised about my friends acting like idiots and trying to communicate with him – y'know, in that really stereotypical way of 'is there anyone here?' We had a nice conversation, actually. My friends thought I'd been snatched up by the spirit and killed, 'cause I'd been gone so long." 

"Guessin' he had a lot o' visitors, den? Did he get ghosthunters goin' dere?" 

"Oh, yeah. And a priest apparently tried to exorcise him, once." Logan laughed again. "That was when I found out exorcisms don't actually work. At least not on ghosts." 

"Well, dere goes years an' years o' ghost movies, huh?" Remy grinned back at him, getting up from the bed as Logan made his way towards the door. "You probably used to watch dem an' laugh, righ'?" 

"To myself, yeah. They were never scary to me because I know most ghosts don't do any of that crap. I haven't met a ghost yet who has possessed someone or tormented someone. I mean…" Logan shrugged, turning to him a little as he walked down the stairs – and Remy appreciated the gesture. Even if he wasn't aware of it, Logan was talking to him as if he were a real, live person, and not just a ghost. "I've heard of the violent and vengeful spirits, but I've never met one. Probably a good thing, huh?" 

"T'ink dat's fo' de best, oui." Remy smirked. "Unless you want yo' house to be trashed an' yo' life to be in danger." The way he spoke made Logan stop in his tracks, and he turned to face him fully. 

"Have you met one?" 

"Not exactly." Remy shrugged. "De firs' few mont's, Remy did some wanderin', t'inkin' it might be easier if he wasn' wit' de people who were still grievin' him. Came across a couple o' ghosts along de way, ghosts who'd been hangin' around a lot longer dan Remy, an' dey gave him a few pointers 'bout some stuff. Remy didn' know he could become corporeal until anot'er ghost showed him it was possible fo' some o' us." Logan was mentally making notes, wishing he was in his office with his notebook so he could write it all down. "It won' surprise you to know dat ghosts often get lonely, an' sometimes a group will stick toget'er in one place… well, dis ghost told Remy dat dey'd recently jus' left dis old manor house 'cause a vengeful spirit had moved in." 

"Really? So it invaded their residence?" 

"Well, not exactly. See, de manor had tons o' ghosts, 'cause it's been dere fo' so long an' lots o' people have died over de years. But den one o' de owners was murdered quite horribly by anot'er, an' she became a vengeful spirit 'cause o' it. Many o' de ot'er spirits left after dat, 'cause she was tearin' up de place an' tormentin' de guy who killed her." Remy ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. "Remy wanted to see what dat was like, 'cause he'd only known gentle spirits, so he went to de manor. It was awful." 

"Did she know you were there?" Logan's mind was working overtime now, trying to find a way to work this into another book. "What happened?"

"Non, Remy don' t'ink so. She was so caught up in her rage dat she barely even looked twice at him, but… she was in such pain, Logan. So angry, an' so hurt. She felt… betrayed. S'pose dat's not surprisin', all t'ings considered. Made Remy glad he hadn' turned out dat way." That sparked Logan's interest – but he said nothing. He knew this wasn't the right time to push him for details. 

"That's awful. I don't know much about them, but I know vengeful spirits can't be helped to move on the way others can." Logan sighed. "She'll stay there, angry and alone, until someone finds a way to put her to rest." 

"Remy t'inks it migh' be some time befo' dat happens." 

\-- 

Monday night was always movie night in Logan's house. Alone or with ghostly company, he'd head into town and pick out a film, or select one from his own collection, and he'd settle down on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and some snacks, and a couple of beers in a cooler so he wouldn't have to get up to fetch more. Remy had been all too happy to join him, which pleased Logan – it was always better to have company. 

He'd picked out another comedy for this week, feeling it was the safest option and they were both in need of a good laugh after their earlier conversation, and Remy hadn't argued against it. Logan set the bowl of popcorn on the sofa between them – Remy couldn't eat it, of course, but he seemed to enjoy throwing odd pieces at him from time to time, and Logan would allow him that small pleasure even if it meant finding popcorn inside his clothes for hours. 

Remy always started out sat next to him like a normal person, but throughout the duration of the film he'd fidget and shift position until he was sprawled across the length of the sofa, the bowl of popcorn resting on his stomach – which proved to be a much better arrangement for throwing it at Logan. He briefly wondered if they were almost at the stage where Remy would quite happily drape his legs across Logan's lap. It wouldn't surprise him in the slightest. 

When the film came to an end, Logan grabbed the bowl of popcorn – now mostly gone – and set it on the coffee table out of Remy's reach, and he stood to collect up the beer bottles before Remy complained about him leaving them scattered all over the house. Remy only sank lower on the sofa, stretching his legs out with a content sigh, and Logan left him to it. 

He threw the bottles into his recycling pile, sighing at the overflowing box. He'd have to take that out and deal with it soon. For now, though, he simply tossed a newspaper on top of it all in an attempt to hide it. Remy would complain, but he was getting used to that. When he wandered back through to the living room with a fresh beer in one hand, he smiled – Remy had sprawled completely over the sofa now, legs hanging off the armrest with his head resting against the opposite one, and he was flipping through one of Logan's books. Logan always kept a copy of each of his books on the small bookshelf underneath the coffee table, simply to remind himself that he'd done something productive with his life, and in case he wanted to double-check a plotline when he worked downstairs. 

"Looking for some light reading?" Remy looked up, and smiled. 

"Gotta have somet'in' to do at night, eh? Ghosts don' sleep, after all." He closed the book, and flipped it over to read the back. "Is Remy gon' end up in one o' yo' books, den?" 

"Well that depends." He moved over to the sofa, and perched on the edge of the coffee table. Remy raised an eyebrow at him. 

"On?" 

"If I find interest or a potential story in anything you can tell me." Logan shrugged, and nodded at the book in his hands. "That one came from a guy who'd been around for decades. He had some pretty interesting stories to tell me, and was thrilled that someone wanted to write them down, even if it was only for fiction and lots of stuff – like names – would be changed." 

"So you basically write 'bout yo' own life, but wit' changed names?" Remy grinned. "No wonder you got so many books, den." 

"It helps. But y'know, a lot of authors do the same thing." Logan shrugged again. "Ain't any different, except my life is a little more bizarre than some. Or, well… I suppose that's debatable, really." 

"What even gave you de idea in de firs' place?" Remy reached down and picked up another, examining the cover. 

"Well… I started writing down some things for a ghost once, a woman who had stories she didn't want to be forgotten. They were great, and really fascinating. After she was gone I was typing them up to store them, intending to then print them off or something and anonymously post them to her family, and it just hit me that I could be using stuff like this for a novel." Logan picked up another of the books – his first one, the one that started it all off. "Apparently a struggling novelist with a unique talent of communicating with the dead is something people like to read about." 

"An' is dis novelist grumpy an' lazy when it comes to cleanin' t'ings?" Remy grinned, and laughed when Logan scowled at him. 

"Why don't you read it, and find out?" He shot back, taking the two books from him and shoving the first book into his hands instead. "Start from the beginning." 

"Alrigh', Remy will." 

\-- 

That night, when Logan lay sprawled in bed and peacefully asleep, Remy sat on the floor beside the bed, his back pressed up against it and knees drawn almost up to his chest, Logan's book balanced carefully against them. He wasn't exactly sure how it was possible, but he'd long ago discovered that he no longer needed light to be able to read – of course in pitch black darkness it would be difficult, but the faint light that crept into the room from where Logan hadn't quite pulled the curtains shut was enough to illuminate the pages for him. 

He'd only started the book two hours ago, after Logan had fallen asleep, but he was already hooked. Logan's main character, James, had just discovered that the spirit currently living in his attic was one of the many unknown victims of a serial killer who had been caught years before, whose body had never been found and probably never would. Remy had read lots of books in his life, and from all sorts of genres, but this was something he might not have picked up for himself. Even so, he was definitely enjoying it. 

It did, of course, hit home a little hard from time to time. More than once he'd caught himself lifting a hand to his chest as he read, his fingers slipping beneath his shirt to touch the spot above his heart. There was nothing there – no mark, no wound, no scar – but the memory of the pain. 

Logan murmured and shifted in his sleep, and Remy turned, peering up over the edge of the bed to glance at him. For a moment it seemed like he would wake, but then he nuzzled into the pillow, and settled once more. Remy found himself smiling, and he turned his attention back to the book. 

He was glad that ghosts didn't need to sleep. He didn't want to think about the nightmares he would have if he did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan gets a visit and Remy goes shopping.

Logan sat back in his desk chair, and dragged a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more than it usually did. This was a process he'd gone through several times in the past hour – he'd type like lightning, and then he'd get stuck, sit back, and drag his fingers through his hair. Still, he was working, and that was something. At the moment he was just outlining the plot, working on character development, and trying to fit everything together. He never really planned much, preferring instead to just let the story unravel by itself, but he needed guidelines, especially when he hadn't even worked out the plot from start to finish. 

The rest of the story relied on anything he could get out of Remy, if Remy would finally open up and talk. Otherwise he'd have to make it up entirely and hope it was good enough for his readers. With a sigh, he picked up his coffee mug, and groaned when he realised it was empty. 

"Stuck?" He turned slightly, just enough to look over at the sofa pressed against one wall of his office, and at the ghost sprawled lazily on top of it, one of Logan's books in his hands. "Only if you keep dat up, yo' gon' start tearin' yo' hair _out_." 

"Great, thanks. You're very helpful." Logan rolled his eyes. 

"C'mon, tell Remy. What's de problem?" Remy sat up, closing the book after he marked the page with a slip of paper. 

"Just thinking over plot points and twists." Logan shrugged. "Working out what goes where and when and why, that sort of thing. Also working in the new characters, and such." 

"So where are you stuck?" Logan hesitated – he couldn't exactly tell Remy that he was stuck because he knew nothing about the character he wanted to write in, the character he was basing entirely on _him_. 

"I'm not stuck, exactly. Just… having trouble sorting my thoughts." He shrugged. "I think I'm gonna call it a day, actually. These things do take them and I might have worked it all out by the time I come back to it." 

"Well, y'know… Remy's only halfway t'rough dis firs' book, but dat friend o' yo's was right. You should t'ink 'bout addin' in some sort o' romantic subplot." Remy shrugged. "Not sayin' it has to be de main t'ing, but it could present an interestin' hurdle fo' James." 

"I suppose…" 

"Jus' t'ink 'bout it. You've had relationships, righ'? Bet dat was hard, when you had to hide yo' weird little talent, eh?" Logan smiled a little, and gave a nod. 

"Alright, alright. I see where you're coming from. I'll add that to my notes." And because it made sense, he turned and quickly typed it out. "Maybe you'll be some use to me after all." 

"You keep up dat attitude an' Remy won' talk at all." Logan smirked to himself, and turned to face him again. 

"Is that a promise?" Remy scowled, and Logan laughed. "I'm sorry, but you walked right into that one." 

"You want Remy to t'row t'ings at you?" He glared. "Cause he will. Lots o' t'ings." 

"Whilst I don't doubt that…" Logan stood, grabbing his mug. "I'll at least need some more coffee before you do." He was halfway down the stairs when someone knocked on the door – and Logan sent a warning glance in Remy's direction before he hurried down to open it. Standing on his doorstep was a young man, clutching a mug in one hand. "Uh… can I help you…?" 

"Oh, I'm Scott. Scott Summers… from across the street?" He gestured behind him to a house, and Logan nodded though he hadn't really paid it much attention. "I was just… this sounds stupid, like it's something right out a movie or something, but… we're completely out of sugar…" He waved the mug a little, and Logan stared at it for a moment before he realised what he was asking. 

"You want to borrow some sugar?" Behind him, Remy gave a snort of derision that Logan did his best to ignore. 

"If that's okay? We'll return the favour whenever you need it, I promise." Scott smiled brightly, and he held out the mug a little. Logan was tempted to lie and say he was out of sugar himself, but he knew that would be rude – and although he didn't exactly want the neighbours dropping by unannounced all the time, he'd rather they didn't alienate him entirely because of a bad attitude. 

"Uh, sure. Come on in…" He took the mug from him and waved him inside, closing the door and giving Remy a look that said 'behave' before directing Scott through the house. 

"Nice place." Scott commentated as he followed Logan to the kitchen. 

"Thanks." Logan felt more than a little awkward. He'd never had a neighbour come over to ask for anything in the whole time he'd lived here, and he wasn't actually sure what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to hand over the sugar and what… show him out? Or was he supposed to offer a drink, or something? "You, uh… you want a drink or something?" Scott seemed surprised to be asked, and so Logan quickly tried to recover. "I just don't get many visits from neighbours, y'know. Tryin' to be nice." 

"Oh, sure." Scott smiled again, and Logan gave an inward sigh of relief. Behind Scott, Remy rolled his eyes. "Just some water, thanks." Logan nodded, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. "So I'm really the first one over here?" 

"Yeah…" Logan shrugged as he grabbed the sugar and filled the mug. "I don't get a lot of visitors much. It's alright. I like to keep to myself a lot." Scott set the glass down after taking a sip, and he took the mug of sugar from him. "You uh, lived here long?" 

"A few months." Logan remembered seeing a truck across the street, now that Scott mentioned it. Weren't neighbours supposed to welcome each other to the neighbourhood or something like that? "I've been meaning to come over sooner, actually." He gestured carefully with the mug. "When I saw we were out of sugar, I thought… what better excuse?" Logan tried to smile, but Remy was making retching gestures behind Scott's head and it was difficult not to look at him. "I've seen you around a lot…" Scott went on, and Logan forced himself to meet his eyes and focus on the conversation. 

"Yeah?" He had no idea what he was supposed to say – was he supposed to say the same in return? He hadn't exactly paid much attention to his neighbours at all, really. "Well, uh… you wanna sit down…?" He gestured through to the living room, and Scott brightened, picking up his water and heading on through. "I'll be there in a second." Logan called after him, and then he ducked out of sight and glared at Remy. "The hell was that?" He hissed, keeping his voice as low as possible. 

"Oh, please. De pretty boy's clearly tryin' to get in yo' pants." Remy rolled his eyes, watching Scott from the doorway. "No one ever actually wants to borrow sugar." He turned back to Logan, and grinned. "He's kinda cute, t'ough. Maybe dis is yo' opportunity to get laid, non?" 

"Shut up. And-," 

"Remy's not gon' stay out o' sight. Not dis time." Before Logan could argue, Remy wandered through to the living room and perched himself on the arm of the sofa closest to Scott. Logan groaned softly to himself, and then forced a smile onto his face as he walked through to join them. 

"So I hear you're a writer." Scott noticed the books under the coffee table, and nodded at them. "Guess that's right, huh?" 

"Yeah, that's right." Logan sent a final warning glance at Remy before he took his seat. "It's how I could afford this place." 

"Yeah no kidding." Scott laughed. "We had to split the rent four ways over at our place. It's just me and a few friends over there. And our place isn't nearly as nice as this." He took another drink, and then set the glass down. "So what do you write about?" 

"Oh, uh… paranormal stuff, mostly. Well…" Logan shrugged. He'd always found it difficult to label his books. "Sorta. It's hard to explain." 

"Sounds really interesting." Scott reached for his drink, only his fingers closed around nothing and he stared at the spot on the table where he swore he'd put it down. "Uh…" He frowned, and then noticed the glass further back on the table, where he had to really reach to pick it up. Logan took advantage of his distraction to glare over at Remy and mouth the word 'behave' at him. 

Remy flipped him off. 

"So, uh… what do you do?" He really wasn't good at conversation, not with living people and especially not strangers, but he needed to distract himself from Remy's behaviour. 

"Oh, I'm a student teacher at a private school. Hoping to work my way up to a professor at the end of it all." That, at least, was something he could talk about. 

"Ah, excellent. One of my good friends is a teacher, actually. At the local high school, though." Scott's face brightened a little at that. "She teaches English, so I drop by from time to time as a special guest." 

"That must be great for the kids, especially if there are aspiring writers in the class. I know I'd have been honoured to meet someone with so much talent…" Remy groaned loudly.

"Could dis guy be any mo' obvious? Hey Logan, why don' you pull down yo' pants an' bend over so he can really kiss yo' ass?" Logan struggled to keep his face neutral, and he did his best to try and ignore Remy. 

"Thanks… yeah, some of the kids really enjoy being able to ask questions and stuff. She's got a couple of great kids in her classes who could go far if they want to." He smiled, ignoring how Remy rolled his eyes. 

"So are you and she…?" Scott raised his eyebrows, and then cleared his throat. "Sorry, I know that's none of my business, really. I just see a woman coming here from time to time…" 

"Jus' how much time does dis guy spend watchin' yo' house?" Remy cut in smoothly. "Remy takes it back, Logan. Dis guy ain' fo' you. Sleep wit' him an' he migh' move in de next day." 

"No, she's just a friend." Logan wanted to raise his voice to speak over Remy, but of course Scott couldn't hear him.

"Ah, right. Do you have a girlfriend? Or… boyfriend?" 

"Wow, real subtle dere Scotty. Why don' you jus' climb into his lap an' start ruttin'? Jeez…" 

"No, I… I'm between relationships." Logan admitted, sending another glare in Remy's direction as Scott reached for his drink again. 

"Sorry for all the personal questions when you've only just met me, but… I like to know people, and you're definitely someone I'd like to get to know more, in more ways than one." Logan felt him flush at the wink Scott sent his way, and hoped it wasn't showing on his face. Remy gave a loud, frustrated groan. 

" _Whoooooooore_!" He called as he tipped his head back, and Logan actually winced a little. Luckily, Scott didn't seem to notice. 

"Sorry, that was really forward of me…" Scott had obviously taken his silence as a bad thing, and he looked embarrassed. Logan didn't really know what to say to that – it _had_ been forward, and whilst Logan appreciated people speaking their mind on occasion, he wasn't in the right mood to be hit on right now.

"No, no, it's okay…" 

"Maybe we could just go for a drink some time…?" Scott looked so hopeful that Logan considered agreeing, but he didn't want to give the wrong impression. He was between relationships, yes, but that didn't necessarily mean he wanted to jump into another one any time soon. 

"Uh, s-sure… maybe." He sighed a little, mostly to himself. He'd find some excuse to start with, or maybe just tell the kid straight that he wasn't interested in anything beyond being a friendly neighbour. Logan was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn't notice the scowl on Remy's face – and didn't sense the impending doom of poor Scott before it was too late. 

Scott leapt up with a startled cry as his glass of water suddenly leapt off the table and into his lap, and Logan quickly reached to catch it before it could hit the ground. Scott was frantically brushing at his soaked jeans, as if the action would somehow suck up all the water and put it back into the glass where it belonged. 

"Shit!" He hissed, his eyes darting from his soaked crotch to the glass now sitting perfectly innocently on the table once more. "Sorry, I… I don't know how that happened…" Logan did – and it all came down to the ghost almost bent double with laughter. 

"It's fine, sometimes these things happen…" He grabbed a cloth and tossed it at him, and Scott dabbed at his jeans for a moment before sighing. 

"I should probably go and change… it was nice talking to you, Logan." He picked up the mug of sugar. "Sorry about…" He gestured to the glass and the water, and Logan realised he was blushing. "Maybe I'll see you around soon, yeah?" 

"Yeah, maybe." Logan led him back to the door and saw him out, shutting the door behind him with a groan. He was torn between being annoyed with Remy for what he'd done, and being grateful that the conversation had been cut short because of it. With a sigh, he decided to at least tell Remy he couldn't do that sort of thing to people, and he stepped away from the door and wandered back through to confront him – only to find him missing. 

Outside, Scott was just crossing the street when he tripped over seemingly nothing and dropped most of the sugar out of his mug. 

Laughing, Remy slipped back through the front door and into the living room, and his laughter faded away into a grin when he saw the look Logan was giving him. He dropped onto the sofa, sprawling lazily, and gave him a little shrug. 

"What?" 

"What the hell was that?" Logan demanded. "Moving things around is one thing, Remy, but tipping the water into his lap? Really?" 

"Remy t'ought he needed to cool off." The grin didn't falter in the slightest, and Logan had to stop himself from smirking in return. "Oh come on, Logan, de guy was 'bout ten seconds short o' humpin' yo' leg." 

"Oh, stop." Logan groaned, rubbing at his face now. "You can't do things like that, Remy. I don't even want to know what you did to him outside." 

"Not'in'. Jus' saw him to his door." Remy gave another shrug, still grinning. "You can' tell Remy you liked dat? He may as well have fanned out his tail an' paraded in front o' you." 

"Hey, you were the one who said I needed to get laid, go out and have fun." Logan pointed out. Remy rolled his eyes. 

"Oh, Logan, Logan, Logan… de type o' fun Remy's talkin' 'bout only lasts fo' one night." Then he smirked. "T'ough if you play yo' cards right, it lasts fo' de next mornin', too." 

"You are just…" No word appropriate enough came to mind, and so Logan just groaned and picked up Scott's discarded glass and carried it through to the kitchen, intending on getting that next mug of coffee after all. 

"He's not yo' type, anyway." Logan stepped back into the doorway, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"And how do you know what my type is?" 

"Remy knows t'ings." He shrugged again. "An' yo' looked real uncomfo'table." 

"Well… it was a bit too forward for my liking…" Logan admitted. "But-," 

"So he is yo' type? Really?" Remy didn't look convinced, and Logan sighed. 

"Alright, so he's not someone I'd intentionally pick up at a bar-," he held up a hand before Remy could cut in with a remark, "-but I also wouldn't say no if it felt right. But… sure, he's not exactly my type…" 

"Non. You probably like someone a bit prettier, eh?" Remy gave him a wink, and Logan rolled his eyes. "An' someone wit' mo' fight." 

"Shut up." Logan fetched his coffee, and carried it through to set it down on the coffee table. "And move your damn legs." Remy's cocky little smirk faded from his face, replaced with honest surprise, and Logan paused, wondering what it was he'd said – but then Remy was smiling, and he shuffled up the sofa, pulling his legs up to make space for Logan. 

"Dat enough space fo' yo' fat ass?" Logan glared at him, snatching up the newspaper from the table and tossing it at Remy's face. Remy laughed, reaching over to pick it up from where it had fallen on the floor. "One day yo' gon' learn dat t'rowin' t'ings ain't gon' work." 

"Who says I care if it works? The satisfaction of throwing it is often enough." Logan murmured, taking a long sip of his coffee before switching the TV on. 

"Oh, you definitely need to get laid…"

\-- 

Logan had been staring at his closet for ten minutes now. Remy sat on Logan's bed, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, his book in his hands, occasionally looking up from the pages to glance at him. He didn't exactly know what Logan was up to, but it was starting to tug at his curiosity.

"Tryin' to find yo' way back into de closet?" He murmured casually. "O' are you jus' tryin' to find Narnia?" Logan sighed. 

"I think I need to go shopping." The tone of his voice suggested that was a task he wasn't looking forward to. 

"Fo' what, exactly?" Remy put the book down, raising an eyebrow. Logan sighed again, tugging at the sleeve of a plaid shirt. 

"Something a bit… smarter, I guess." That got Remy's attention. 

"Okay, who are you an' what have you done wit' Logan?" When Logan turned to glare at him, Remy simply grinned. 

"I'm serious, Remy. 'Ro has this dinner party coming up that I said I'd go to, and I don't have anything remotely suitable." He turned away from the closet with a groan. "Since apparently plaid isn't good enough." He directed that last bit at Remy, who smirked a little. 

"Not fo' a dinner party, non." He got up off the bed, and snapped his fingers at Logan. "Get yo' ass dressed an' make sure you got yo' wallet."

"Why?" Logan frowned, and Remy rolled his eyes. 

"Cause we're goin' shoppin', sister." 

And that was how Logan found himself driving into town with a ghost in his passenger seat. Remy insisted on fiddling with the radio every five minutes, insisting that there was nothing good on, and complained that Logan was driving like an old man. 

"Why de hell are you stoppin' now?" Remy groaned, sliding down in his seat and resting his feet against the dashboard. 

"It's a red light, Remy." Logan sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel as he waited for the light to change. 

"Never stopped Remy befo'." 

"… I'm not even gonna ask." Logan shook his head and pulled away as the light changed to green, thankful that it wasn't too much further. "Just be grateful I chose to take the car instead of the bike." 

"Didn' want Remy all pressed up against you, eh?" Remy grinned, leaning in to fiddle with the radio again. Logan swatted at his hand and was pleased when he made physical contact. 

"Stop playing with it." He turned a corner, and accelerated just a little when he saw the sign for the parking lot. "You're a really annoying passenger, you know that, right?" 

"Remy's used to bein' de driver." Remy shrugged. "Tearin' t'rough de streets on his baby." Logan smiled a little at that, recognising the talk of an owner of a beautiful bike. Something in the back of his mind wondered if that was how Remy had met his end – a nasty crash, perhaps? 

"Yeah, well… people ain't exactly used to seeing cars drive themselves, so you'll have to be the passenger." He found a space in the parking lot and hopped out to pay for a ticket, figuring they'd only be here a couple of hours at most. He locked the car after Remy got out, even though he knew it didn't matter either way. He'd found himself treating Remy like he wasn't a ghost – something he hadn't really done with others before.

"Remy supposes yo' gon' tell him to keep quiet, even t'ough no one but you can hear him." Remy sighed, with a roll of his eyes. Logan glanced around to check no one was close enough to hear him. 

"Just… keep the distractions to a minimum. And don't go picking things up where people can see." He muttered, heading towards the exit. 

"Oh please, give Remy some credit." Remy rolled his eyes again, waving him off. "Jus' let Remy pick a few t'ings out, eh? You got as much style as a blind, one-legged racoon." 

"Gee, thanks." Logan had to give Remy credit – as soon as they were amongst more people, he quietened down and spent most of the time avoiding walking through other people. Logan appreciated that Remy was willingly surrounding himself with people who couldn't see or hear him just to help him out, and so he sped up his pace, hoping to get somewhere he could talk to Remy just that little bit faster. 

He stepped into the first store that looked like a suitable one – and Remy gave him a slight nod in approval – and hurried to the right section, thankful that it was mostly empty. He ignored the part of him that wanted to go and look at the display of plaid shirts, and turned instead to browse the other items of clothing. 

"Remy help." He muttered, almost under his breath, and he heard the soft, familiar laugh right beside his ear. 

"Yo' hopeless." Remy moved into sight, weaving in between rails and racks, examining various shirts as he went. "So dis dinner party… is it real formal, or is mo' like… smart-casual?" 

"Uh, smart-casual, I guess…" He glanced over his shoulder, noticing someone browsing nearby, and he swore under his breath. This was going to be difficult. 

"Alrigh'… let's see…" Remy was carefully looking through some rails, trying not to move the hangers too much, and Logan realised he was just standing there, and had been for some time. Not wanting to look out of place, he began to idly browse – and sighed when the other person came even closer. "Alrigh', so… how 'bout dis one?" Remy gestured to a nice shirt in a deep, forest green. It wasn't a colour Logan would have picked out himself, but it was nice. 

He had a sudden stroke of genius, and quickly pulled his phone out of pocket, and pretended to answer a call. Remy gave him a curious look for a moment, but Logan grinned and actually sent a wink in his direction. 

"That's a nice one, yeah." Remy grinned, understanding, and Logan moved forward to pick up the shirt. "You really think green is a good colour?" 

"It'll be good on you, oui." Remy nodded, moving around to another rail and inspecting a blue shirt. "An' dis' is a nice one, too." 

"Yeah?" He followed after him. "Just how much stuff are you gonna convince me to buy today?" 

"You need more in yo' closet dan plaid, Logan." He rolled his eyes with a fond grin. "Might as well tackle it in one go, eh?" 

"I suppose… alright, I'll leave you in charge." He picked up the blue shirt as well, and draped them both over his arm. Taking the car was definitely the better option – he had a feeling he'd been taking a lot of stuff home. 

Almost an hour later, and Logan was standing in the fitting room trying on some of the clothes Remy had picked out for him. The jeans Remy had selected were somehow smarter than the ones he usually wore, and they were definitely of a different style. These ones clung to his legs in ways he wasn't entirely sure about, and fit snugly on his hips. 

"I don't know about these, Remy…" He sighed, turning this way and that in front of the mirror. 

"Remy takes back what he said befo' 'bout dat ass o' yo's." Remy was perched on the little bench, giving Logan a very appreciative once-over. "Damn Logan, you got some nice legs." Logan blushed, and quickly turned away from him to hide it. "Get several pairs o' dem, Logan. Dey'll do wonderful t'ings fo' yo' sex life." 

"Oh shut up." Logan sighed. "Alright, what's next?" Remy laughed, picking up something from the pile and holding it out to him. "A waistcoat? Really?" 

"Oui. Jus' look at what it does fo' Remy, eh?" Remy grinned, gesturing at his own waistcoat. "It'll look good, trust Remy. If you don' wear it fo' social t'ings, den it'll be good fo' when you do publicity stuff fo' yo' next book." 

"Alright, if you say so…" He took the waistcoat and slipped it on, because it _did_ look good on Remy and he could do with something else to wear for public appearances and book tours. He buttoned it, adjusted it around his waist, and then inspected how it looked in the mirror. Remy appeared in the mirror behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder. 

"You gon' knock people dead wit' dis look, Logan." He actually found himself smiling, because it did look pretty damn good and he didn't feel as stupid as he'd first thought he would.

"Yeah… maybe I will." He laughed, smoothing his hands down the front of the waistcoat, shifting a little to get used to how it felt on him. "Alright, consider yourself my new personal shopper." 

"Well, you certainly needed one." Remy smirked. "So, you got a nice pile o' new clot'es dat you can wear in public wit'out lookin' like a hick." 

"… I don't look like a hick." Logan scowled, already unbuttoning the waistcoat to change back into his other clothes. 

"Keep tellin' yo'self dat, Logan." Whilst Logan changed, Remy stepped in front of the mirror and did a little twirl, grinning as he did so. "Maybe one day you will look as good as Remy, eh?" 

"Yeah, that's likely." Logan muttered idly as he pulled on his comfy loose jeans and his plaid shirt. He didn't realise the weight of his words until it hit him that Remy had fallen silent, and was smirking at him in that cocky little way that made Logan want to throw something at him. "… Shut up." 

"Well, now ain't dat a bit o' flattery? Like what you see, eh Logan?" Remy struck an overdramatic pose, and Logan dropped his head into his hands with a groan. 

"I hate you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween. Logan _hates_ Halloween.

It was officially a month since Remy had moved in. Not that Logan was counting, or anything. He just happened to remember the date, that's all. Even so – a month, and he still had no key pieces of information about him. That was definitely a record. Part of him knew he should be frustrated, or concerned, but to his own surprise he wasn't. Instead, he was actually starting to enjoy having Remy around. 

Of course there were times when he longed for the peace and quiet he'd had before, but that was always to be expected. Remy was actually proving to be somewhat useful – he'd lounge in Logan's office as he worked, usually reading a book and offering suggestions whenever he got stuck, and he'd perch on the counter in the kitchen and hand him things whilst he cooked. 

Which is what he was doing now – perched on a counter, idly playing with the packet of pasta whilst Logan worked on the sauce. 

"Yo' makin' it wrong." He murmured, grinning when Logan snatched the pasta from him and put some into a pan. 

"No I'm not, shut up." Logan shot back, putting the pasta away. When he saw the pout on Remy's face, he rolled his eyes and handed him a wooden spoon to play with instead. "You're like a child." 

"Remy jus' misses cookin', is all." He shrugged, staring down at the spoon. "He was damn good at it." 

"Yeah?" Logan smiled, letting the sauce simmer for a while whilst he worked on the pasta. 

"Oui." Remy sighed a little, twirling the spoon in his hands. "Papa taught Remy everyt'in' in de kitchen." Logan heard the sadness in his voice, and wanted to reach out and put a hand on his arm, his shoulder, anything – but he knew he couldn't. Although Remy drove him up the wall a lot of the time, he didn't like it when he wasn't smiling, or laughing, or happy. 

"Well…" He smiled again. "We'd have to be pretty careful, make sure no one can see into the kitchen, but… since that dinner party went so well last week, 'Ro and I said we'd try and make it a regular thing." Remy looked up, surprise written all over his face. "And I'll be the host next time, so I'll need a hand with the cooking." 

"You'd let Remy help…?" 

"You'd better be as good as you say you are. If it goes wrong it's all on you." Logan grinned, and Remy returned it immediately. 

"Oh, please. De second dey taste Remy's cookin', not'in' else in de world will ever be good enough." He gestured with the spoon. "An' you'll be getting' all de credit, so you better appreciate dat." 

"I do. I will." Logan rolled his eyes, still smiling. "I'm gonna have to ask you to behave when they're here, though. No moving things around or anything." 

"Well dat's no fun." He huffed a little, and pouted again. "But fine, fine. Remy'll stay out o' de way." 

Whenever Logan ate, Remy would sit at the table with him – and Logan would feel awful about eating in front of him when he knew Remy couldn't, but he also appreciated the gesture. It was more social this way, and he enjoyed the company. Remy always opened up a little more at the table, too, talking about his family and things he'd done in his youth. He never gave too much away, of course, but Logan didn't really mind. If he had to make up a death story for his character, he would. Remy had given him enough to base a personality on, after all. 

He knew that Remy took up residence in his room every night, now. At first he'd imagined he'd find it more than a little creepy, knowing that Remy would be there, watching him sleep, but he realised he didn't actually mind. He'd woken in the middle of the night once, and Remy had been sat on the floor reading a book, and nothing more. Knowing how lonely he was, Logan knew he just wanted the company. 

Of course Remy had a nasty habit of trying to surprise him whenever he woke up, but Logan could move past that after his initial irritation. He still didn't put it past him that he was trying to kill him. 

They had a morning routine now, too. Sometimes Logan would wander through to the bathroom to take a shower, and he'd yank the curtain across loud enough to let Remy know he was allowed to come in – and when he was finished, Remy would be perched on the washbasin holding out the towel for him. Either way, he'd wander downstairs to grab coffee and breakfast, and Remy would take up his spot on the counter and depending on his mood that morning, he'd choose to be helpful or massively _un_ helpful. If he chose the latter, there would be dishcloths thrown, and mugs misplaced. 

Logan would pick up the mail and the newspaper whilst he waited for his coffee, and after a quick glance he'd toss the newspaper in Remy's direction. After breakfast – which was also eaten at the table whilst Remy sat opposite flicking through the paper – Logan would drag himself up to his office and force himself to work on ideas and plotlines for his book, whilst Remy sprawled on the sofa and continued reading, offering him suggestions here and there even if Logan hadn't asked for any. On the days where he hadn't already showered, Logan would go for a run when he gave up on working, and he'd get an hour's peace and quiet to sort through his thoughts alone. When he got back, Remy would be waiting for him with an inappropriate comment and a cocky little grin that Logan refused to admit he was actually starting to become fond of.

Remy was definitely now more of a frustrating housemate than a ghostly visitor. 

"Is it really almost Halloween?" Logan turned away from his laptop to glance over at Remy, who had abandoned his book momentarily. Logan checked the date, and groaned. 

"Apparently so." 

"Well, don' sound so happy 'bout it." Remy raised an eyebrow, perching on the end of Logan's desk. 

"I'm not big on Halloween." He admitted, closing the lid of his laptop and pushing away from the desk, deciding that was enough work for one day. He'd never been one for Halloween, ever since he was a kid. Growing up surrounded by ghosts made the holiday feel a little pointless to him, and so he'd always remained locked away in his room whilst the other kids ran around like lunatics in ridiculous costumes. If he found himself with ghostly company, that was enough. 

"Why de hell not?" Remy followed him as he left the office, in search of a beer. "It's de best holiday o' dem all! Candy, costumes, parties… what's not to like?" 

"Annoying little brats knockin' on my door at all hours of the night?" Logan shot back, sighing just at the thought of it. "And I don't do parties." 

"Oh, Remy can tell." He smirked. "But yo' missin' out! Remy's been to a few great ones in his time. Great place to pick up pretty lil' t'ings who jus' want a good night like you." 

"… Does everything come down to sex with you?" Logan rolled his eyes, grabbing a beer from the fridge and cracking it open. He considered grabbing a second, too. He had a feeling he'd need it. 

"Not'in' wrong wit' it." Remy grinned, perching himself on the table. "A good sex life is healt'y, non? Maybe dat's why yo' so grumpy all de time." 

"If I'm grumpy it's because I have an infuriating Cajun breathing down my neck all hours of the day." Logan took a nice, long swig of beer, enjoying the refreshing chill of the liquid. 

"Yo' life would be borin' wit'out Remy, an' don' you try an' deny it." Remy smirked, sitting cross-legged on the table and grabbing an apple from the bowl, tossing it between his hands. 

"My life would be _peaceful_." Logan insisted, watching him throwing the apple in the air, and deciding that maybe some lunch would be a good idea. 

" _Boring_." Remy stressed, gesturing at him with the apple. "An' you like Remy, you jus' don' want to admit it." 

"You're occasionally useful. That's it." 

"Keep tellin' yo'self dat, Logan." Remy grinned. "Remy knows de trut'." 

\-- 

It was definitely obvious that Halloween had been Remy's favourite holiday whilst he'd been alive. Despite his usual dislike of venturing outside, he'd followed Logan to the supermarket, perching on the end of the cart as Logan picked up the things he needed – and he kept trying to persuade Logan to pick up a couple of pumpkins and some candy. Logan was having to balance his phone against his ear to keep up the pretence that he was talking to someone as he pushed the cart around. 

"For the last time, Remy, I am not going to buy a goddamn pumpkin." He groaned, picking up a six pack of beer from the alcohol aisle – and then picking up a second after a brief hesitation. He was definitely drinking a little more now that Remy was a guest in his house. 

"Oh, come on Logan… jus' one pumpkin! It won' hurt!" Remy was definitely pouting, and Logan tried to ignore it. He was not going to give in. "Jus' show some holiday spirit!" 

"Pumpkins might encourage kids to knock on my door. So no, no pumpkins." He studied the bottles of whiskey, wondering if it was worth picking one up since he was almost certain the one at home was almost empty. 

"But-," 

"No, Remy. This isn't up for discussion." 

"Not a fan of Halloween, huh?" Logan turned, surprised, and found Scott standing just behind him with a shopping cart full of alcohol and snack food. Logan spared a glance at Remy, who rolled his eyes and groaned overdramatically, and then he sighed. 

"I'll talk to you later, Remy." He pretended to hang up, slipping the phone into his pocket. "Not really, no. I just… never liked it, I guess." He glanced into Scott's cart, and Scott gave a slightly nervous laugh. 

"This isn't as bad as it looks, I swear. We're having a Halloween party, and I was given the task of stocking up for it." Scott's eyes lit up as if he'd had an idea, and Logan inwardly groaned, already guessing what he was about to say. "Hey, you should come, if you want to. Costumes are optional." 

"Ah, I… I'm not really into parties…" 

"Dis guy jus' won' give up, eh?" Remy rolled his eyes again. "He knows yo' not into Halloween, an' so he invites you to a Halloween party. Sure, dat makes sense." Logan ignored him, even though Remy had a point. 

"You can bring your friend, if you like." For a moment Logan tensed, worried that for some reason Scott could see or hear Remy. "The one on the phone? Sounds like he'd enjoy it." _Oh. Of course._  

"Oh, uh… he's… I don't think…" Logan knew he sounded a bit ridiculous, but Scott's sudden appearance had completely thrown him. "I don't think that would be a good idea…" 

"Ah…" Scott gave a nod of understanding. "That kind of friend, huh? Well, I wouldn't want to step on any toes…" It took Logan a moment to understand what Scott meant by that, and he felt his cheeks burn hot almost immediately. 

"Did he actually jus' imply dat Remy's yo' boyfriend?" Remy threw his head back with a laugh. "Oh, dat's brilliant." He leant a little closer to Logan, and grinned. "Maybe you should play dat up a bit, non?" 

"Oh. Uh. Well…" Logan considered Remy's suggestion – Scott was a nice guy, and not unattractive as such, but… Logan really wasn't into him, and he doubted he ever would be. "He's out of town anyway, so…" There. He wasn't confirming or denying anything, and he'd let Scott make his own assumptions. 

"Shame." Scott grinned. "I'd like to meet the lucky guy who hooked you in." He laughed, and then started to push his cart away. "Well, the offer's still open if you change your mind. Seeya, Logan!" Logan gave a half-hearted wave as Scott moved away, and then he groaned. 

"Maybe Remy should try an' learn dat trick so normal people can see him, eh?" Remy grinned. As the aisle was now empty, Logan didn't bother getting out his phone to respond. 

"Don't even think about it." 

"Maybe you should go to dat party, eh? Not dat Remy's encouragin' interaction wit' dat guy, but… you need to get out more, Logan." Logan ignored him, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and pushing the cart out of the aisle, pointedly leaving his phone in his pocket. Remy crossed his arms over his chest and sulked. "You can' ignore Remy fo'ever." 

"I can try." Logan muttered, heading towards the checkout – minus any sort of pumpkin. 

"Yo' no fun." 

\-- 

Remy had positioned himself by the window, peeking through the curtains as kids raced by outside in a wide range of fascinating costumes. Logan, however, had taken up residence on the sofa, with a cushion over his face in an attempt to block it all out. 

"Dere's a lot o' superheroes an' t'ings dis year." Remy commented, watching another group of kids run by in capes and masks and carrying little buckets already mostly full with candy. "Alt'ough dere's been a few good zombies, too. An' dere was dis adorable lil' boy dressed as a vampire." 

"Fascinating." Logan muttered, not even trying to sound enthusiastic. 

"Don' be so grumpy, Logan." Remy rolled his eyes, turning away from the window. "It's jus' a bit o' fun." 

"As long as they stay away from my house, I don't care." He sighed. "The whole concept of Halloween is pointless. It's just an excuse for little brats to cause hell for one night, running around screeching and bothering regular people who just want a quiet night in." He groaned. "The sooner it's over, the better." 

"You jus' don' know how to have fun." He came away from the window now, and stood over Logan, arms crossed over his chest. "How is it dat a man who keeps company wit' ghosts doesn' like Halloween? Figured you'd be all fo' it."

"Because of that exact reason." Logan pulled the cushion away and rolled his eyes at the look on Remy's face. "I deal with enough spooky shit on a daily basis without dress-up and candy. Why do you like it so much, anyway?" Remy shrugged, moving to perch on the coffee table. 

"Back when Remy was a kid, Papa would get us all pumpkins to carve, an' we'd have lots o' fun wit' it. Den we'd put dem outside on de porch, an' Papa would get Mika to help us wit' costumes – dey were always handmade, an' always better dan de ot'er kids' costumes – an' take us out. It was always so much fun, an' de whole family got involved. Remy's cousins would come over fo' trick-o'-treatin', an' den we'd be let loose in de family den to eat ourselves sick wit' candy whilst de adults had a party." He sighed heavily, fingers idly picking at the sleeve of his shirt. "Back den, it was de only day dat Remy really felt close to Henri, 'cause we'd share our candy wit' each ot'er an' help each ot'er wit' de pumpkin carvin'." He glanced over at the window as children's laughter filtered through. "Remy misses it, dat's all." Logan watched him for a moment, and inwardly groaned. He was definitely going soft where Remy was concerned. 

"Hey, uh…" He stood up, feeling a little foolish, and sighed. "I've gotta go pick something up that I forgot at the store yesterday. You stay here and watch the chaos outside for a bit." 

"Yo' goin' now?" Remy raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, may as well head off before I forget about it again, right?" Logan grabbed his jacket from the hall and picked up his car keys. "Why don't you sit outside and feel like a part of it, or something?" That, at least, made Remy smile, and he followed Logan out through the door to do just that. 

When Logan drove off, Remy was sat on the doorstep with a daft little smile on his face, watching more and more kids running around in ridiculous costumes begging for candy. 

"Wonder if Papa's t'rowin' de traditional party dis year…" He murmured to himself as two girls dressed as cats scurried by, shrieking in delight as they inspected the contents of their buckets. "Bet it's not de same wit'out Remy, eh Papa…?" He sighed, his heart suddenly feeling rather heavy, and he rose from the step and slipped back into the house. He wasn't in the mood for Halloween anymore. 

It took Logan fifteen minutes before he pulled into the driveway, and he was surprised to find Remy missing. That wasn't exactly a good sign, but maybe he'd just got tired of waiting for Logan to get back. He grabbed the bag from the passenger seat and jogged up to the door, hoping Remy hadn't done his disappearing act again – but he found him stretched out on the sofa, looking thoroughly miserable. 

"I, uh… I'm back." Remy looked up at him, and then down at the bag. "I swear to god if you say a damn thing about this…" Curious, Remy sat up, and watched as Logan reached into the bag and pulled out a pumpkin. "Happy Halloween, Remy." 

"Dat's a-," Remy broke off as he realised that Logan had gone out of his way to pick up a pumpkin for him on a night he'd rather spend inside and away from all the hype, knowing it was something that would make him happy. "Merci, mon ami…" Logan was surprised to see tears in Remy's eyes – not surprised at the fact ghosts could cry, because it wasn't the first time he'd seen it happen, although he had no explanation as to how that was possible – but surprised because he hadn't really expected it to mean that much to him. 

"Well… maybe one pumpkin wouldn't hurt." He let Remy take it from him, and he gestured for him to follow as he wandered into the kitchen to grab a knife. He'd never carved a pumpkin in his life, but he figured Remy would know exactly what to do. 

He sat at the table and watched as Remy worked, amused at how he poked his tongue out very slightly whenever he was in deep concentration. He had to duck several times to avoid bits of pumpkin that Remy threw at him, and eventually retaliated by grabbing a handful and throwing it back, not caring that he'd have to clean it up from the floor later. 

Logan knew he was smiling like an idiot as Remy worked, and he didn't want to think too much about what that meant – but Remy was happy, and he was having fun, and the sound of his delighted laughter as he turned the pumpkin around to show Logan his masterpiece was enough to make Logan think that maybe, just maybe, Halloween wasn't as bad as he thought. 

He rummaged through the cupboards to find a candle of some description, and he let Remy position it whilst he grabbed his lighter to light it. Then, very carefully, he carried it through and set it on the front step. 

"T'ank you, Logan." Remy stared down at his pumpkin for a moment, thinking it looked a bit lonely when he was used to seeing it surrounded by others, but it was perfect enough and all he could ask for. Logan closed the front door before any kids got any ideas, and turned to him. "Remy really means dat." 

"Don't mention it. Seriously." Logan smirked. "I don't want reminders that I went soft and gave in to your demands." He expected Remy to laugh at that, but he barely cracked a smile. "Hey-," 

"T'ank you." Remy repeated, and to Logan's surprise he wrapped his arms around him and _hugged him_. Remy was surprisingly solid against him, and though he wasn't exactly warm, he wasn't icy cold either. Logan had never been perfectly comfortable with physical affection like this, but… it felt nice, and he found himself returning the embrace. 

"You're… you're welcome, Remy." He smiled, letting the hug go on for a few more moments before he gently pulled away. "So, uh… what do you say to watching some terrible horror movies and betting on who dies first?" Remy grinned now, and Logan returned it. 

"Sounds perfect." 

"Right, well… you go grab a handful from my collection – I've got a bunch I've not got around to watching yet, and we might find something on TV too – and I'll get the popcorn and beer." Remy did just that, hurrying off to the display of DVDs whilst Logan went back into the kitchen to make the popcorn. By the time he came back with the bowl of popcorn and a six-pack, Remy was putting a DVD into the player. He settled down on the sofa, putting both the popcorn and the beer within reach. 

"Sure you wouldn' rat'er be at dat party across de street?" Remy asked as he wandered over to the sofa. Logan reached over and rearranged the cushions to make space beside him, and he patted the empty spot. Remy smiled, settling down next to him quite happily. 

"You kidding? A bunch of drunk strangers trying to get into each other's pants? No, thanks. I'll pick awful movies and good company over that any day." He hit the play button, grabbing a handful of popcorn and stuffing it into his mouth. 

"Good company, eh?" Remy grinned, watching a piece of popcorn drop onto Logan's shirt. He plucked it up between thumb and finger, and fed it to him. "See? Remy knew you liked him." 

"Yeah, yeah…" Logan smirked. "Shut yer mouth, Cajun."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan throws a dinner party with Remy's help, and he finally asks _the_ question.

Logan was in trouble. He was growing fond of Remy, getting attached to him – getting used to him being around. It had been a long time since he'd become attached to a ghost, and he'd been a child still too young to understand that they wouldn't be around forever. He hadn't quite worked out that they didn't belong there, that they needed to move on to somewhere better. Once he had, he'd decided to never let himself get attached again, because it wasn't fair on either of them. Instead, he would keep a certain amount of distance between himself and the spirit – be their friend if they wanted it, but not too close. 

Of course Remy didn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon, which is probably what led Logan into this little bit of trouble in the first place. Helping ghosts to move on as quickly as possible had definitely made it easy to keep his distance, because he didn't give himself chance to grow attached – but Remy had been here a long time in comparison. 

He knew it was getting to the point where he'd have to start pressing Remy for information as to how he died, and how he could help him. Remy was good at hiding it, but Logan could tell that he was miserable beneath it all. He didn't even want to think about how long he must have spent watching his family go on without him before he decided to move elsewhere. 

Ghosts weren't necessarily tied to the place where they died – another thing Logan had discovered that the media got wrong. Typically, many of them chose to remain there for a number of reasons. Sometimes, especially if it was their own home, they'd remain simply because their surroundings were familiar, or because they wanted to stay close to people they knew, and cared for. Some, like the vengeful spirit Remy had told him about, were instead tied to one person or object by choice. But generally, many ghosts wandered here and there as they pleased. In Logan's experience, he knew that the ghosts who lingered had often died of illness, or old age, unwilling to leave their families just yet. Something told him Remy hadn't died of an illness – he'd never met a ghost yet who hadn't admitted to that early on. 

Logan had vague ideas of how Remy had met his end – chances are it had been painful, and terrible, and possibly violent in some way or another. Damaging. Which is why, he realised, he was putting off asking about it. Remy had been in such high spirits since Halloween and Logan really didn't want to ruin the atmosphere by bringing up something so depressing and painful for him. 

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to leave it for a little while longer – just until he felt Remy was comfortable enough to open up to him about it. 

\-- 

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Logan sighed, hovering at Remy's shoulder as he watched the Cajun chuck a handful of items into a pan almost carelessly. 

"Logan, yo' askin' a Cajun if he knows how to cook Cajun Jambalaya." Remy raised an eyebrow, and Logan glared back at him. "Stop breat'in' down Remy's neck an' let him work." Logan stepped back to give him some space, and checked the time. "An' stop checkin' de time. Dey're not gon' be here fo' anot'er half an hour at most, an' Remy will be done by den." 

"I'm just not used to doing this." Logan sighed, leaning against the counter. "I barely know how to cook for myself." 

"Good t'ing yo' not cookin' den, eh?" Remy grinned. "Look if you want somet'in' to do, you can set de table an' get de wine selection ready." Logan grumbled a bit at being given orders, but he complied anyway. "You don' host much, do you?"

"I'm good at barbeques and pizza." Logan shrugged, trying to remember which way around he put the knife and fork. "I don't do fancy stuff." 

"Clearly." Remy watched him for a moment, and rolled his eyes. "Alrigh', jus' watch dis fo' a minute. Don' touch anyt'in'." He strode over and took the cutlery from Logan, moving around the table with ease as he placed everything in its proper position. Logan stood beside the cooker and scowled at how easy he made it all look. 

"Sometimes it's obvious we were raised differently." He murmured as Remy wandered back over to the cooker to take over. 

"Why? 'Cause Remy knows how to t'row a party an' you don'?" He grinned. Logan threw a dishcloth at him. 

"Because you're _used_ to this sort of thing. Fancy dinner parties and which wine is the best and which tastes like sewage. I know two types of wine – red, and white." He shrugged. "And you're standing there telling me that this bottle goes really well with fish, and this bottle goes well with steak and how rosé is a good one to have on the table in case someone finds the red too rich or the white too subtle." He groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. 

"Don' beat yo'self up 'bout it, Logan." Remy put a hand on his shoulder and smiled gently. "Remy was drinkin' wine since he was 'bout five o' six. Watered down, o' course, but dat's when he started. Picked t'ings up as he went, an' Papa taught him lots 'bout it, too." 

"Right, yeah. I forgot that French culture encourages wine-drinking." Logan smiled back at him. "I bet you love cheese, too." 

"Oui. Well, depends on de flavour." Remy laughed. "But don' go too far down de road o' stereotypes, Logan. De French like food, ain' not'in' wrong wit' dat." He dipped a spoon into the jambalaya, and then held it out to Logan. "Here, taste dis. Remy usually does dis, but…" He gestured at himself with his free hand, and gave Logan a dorky little grin that was _definitely_ too endearing. 

"Right, right…" Logan leant forward and tasted what was on the spoon, and then leant back with a look of surprise and pleasure on his face. "Holy shit, that's good." Remy grinned around, proud and a little smug, and went back to stirring. "Like… I can taste some spice in there but it's not overpowering or too hot…" 

"Figured de people comin' over might not be used to too much heat." Remy shrugged. "So he went wit' somet'in' a little less spicy dan he usually would. An' dis is 'bout done, so Remy's gon' turn de heat down a lil', but yo' gon' need to keep checkin' on it." He told him, gently turning the heat down under the pan. "Obviously Remy will be here, but yo' guests might find it weird if you leave food cookin' for ages wit'out checkin' it." 

"Oh, yeah. Right." Logan grabbed the large dishes Remy had picked out from the cupboard and set them on the counter next to the pan, ready to serve it up. 

"An' run t'rough what yo' gon' do dis evenin'." Remy crossed his arms over his chest, and Logan took a deep breath, trying to remember everything. 

"When the guests arrive, I invite them into the living room and offer a glass of wine to start while they wait for everyone to get here. Then once all my guests are here, I'll head into the kitchen, make sure everything is ready for them, and then show them into the dining area where I'll make sure they all have a full glass, and then I'll head over here to serve up." Logan paused, trying to remember what came next. 

"An' who do you serve first, Logan?" 

"The women?" He asked with some hesitation, and Remy nodded. "Serve the women first, from the left, then the men. After everyone's finished the main course, I'll clear up, and start serving up dessert." 

"Which is?" 

"Strawberry and raspberry cheesecake." Logan grinned – that had been something they'd both agreed on in the supermarket. "Again, I serve the women first, then the men, and then I offer to top up any drinks before I take my seat." 

"An' after dessert?" 

"I clear the table, engage in whatever light conversation they're having, and then ask if they'd like to move back into the living room to continue before they depart for the night." He paused. "Have I missed anything?" 

"Non. You'll do." Remy grinned, patting Logan's cheek lightly. "You might offer some whiskey to dem, too, t'ough if dey're drivin' dey might not want mo' alcohol." 

"Right… okay." Logan nodded, turning as someone rang the doorbell. "Guess that'll be the first of them…" 

"Well, den. Don' keep yo' guests waitin', Logan. Go. Shoo." Remy waved his hands at him in a shooing motion, and Logan rolled his eyes before turning on his heel and hurrying to the door. Remy set down anything he was holding just in case they saw through to the kitchen, and perched up on the counter to watch over the food. 

Ororo was the first to arrive, dressed immaculately as always, and she presented a bottle of wine to him, telling him she didn't know if he'd have some or not. The look of surprise on her face when he told him he already had quite a selection, but thank you anyway, was definitely worth the twenty minutes he'd had to stand in the supermarket whilst Remy picked it out. 

Charles and Erik arrived together – and it was revealed that they'd travelled together and Erik wasn't going to be drinking very much as he had to drive back – and Jean arrived shortly after, presenting Logan with some flowers as a thank you for the invitation. Remy watched from the kitchen as Logan served them drinks and moved among them, talking here and there, looking more comfortable than Remy knew he felt. It made him miss the dinner parties they'd thrown at home – twice the size of this one, with four or more courses and people could drink as much as they liked because there was always a way for them to get home without driving. 

Remy had been a natural at hosting. His easy nature and smooth voice had done wonders for greeting guests both old and new, and there was always something he could find to talk about with them, even if it was a topic he had almost no knowledge in. Henri had been a little more awkward at it, stumbling over his words and falling silent when the conversation went over his head, but he was good at serving and paying close attention to the individual needs of a guest. Together they'd been a perfect team, and their Papa had been so proud of them both. 

When Logan slipped into the kitchen to check the food and to discreetly consult with Remy over whether they were ready to be seated, Remy gave him an encouraging smile and told him it was going well. He watched as Logan seated them all, and gave him a nod as he served Jean and Ororo first. Although he couldn't be the focus of their praise for the food, it made him feel good that he could still please people with his cooking, even when he couldn't taste it himself. 

After dinner was over and Logan had seen the last of the guests out – Ororo had stayed behind after the others to tell Logan what a good job he'd done and that they should definitely do this again – Remy started on the dishes, unable to leave them lying on the side any longer. 

"Hey – what do you think you're doing?" Logan stepped up behind him, and waved him away. "You cooked. I'll do the dishes." 

"… Yo' definitely in a good mood if yo' offering to do de dishes." Remy grinned, hopping back up onto the counter. "It went well den, eh?" 

"You know it did." Logan smiled. "Thanks, Remy. I really couldn't have done it without you. I appreciate it." 

"Remy'll make a host o' you yet." He laughed, passing the dishes over as Logan worked through them. 

"Did you see their faces when I said all that stuff about the wine?" Logan grinned, finishing up with the dishes and taking the cloth from Remy to dry his hands. "I had no idea what I was saying, but they looked amazed." 

"You couldn' tell, you know. You looked so natural, sounded so natural. Like you were used to dis sort o' t'ing." Remy shrugged. "Maybe you jus' need a bit mo' confidence in yo'self, eh? An' you do scrub up nice, too." He grinned, reaching out to touch the collar of the green shirt Logan was wearing.

"Again, thanks to you." Logan smiled back at him, reaching up to catch Remy's wrist in a gentle grip. "You can forget I ever said this in about thirty seconds but… you've been pretty good for me." Remy's grin only widened, and he pulled his hand back just enough for his fingers to brush against Logan's. 

"Consider dat fo'gotten." He said softly, dropping his hand. "But t'ank you, Logan." 

\-- 

Another week went by, and Logan knew he was finding excuses not to ask Remy about his death. It was never a pretty subject to discuss, even if the ghost was willing, and he really didn't want to upset Remy. Knowing that he was trying to spare his feelings told Logan he was already in pretty deep – he was officially attached to the damn Cajun. 

"What do you dream 'bout, Logan?" He rolled onto his back, glancing quickly at the ghost lying beside him on the bed. 

"What?"

"Jus' curious. What do you dream 'bout?" Remy shrugged a little. "Yo' always talkin' or makin' lil' sounds, so Remy's interested." 

"Oh, uh… I don't really know." Logan frowned a little. "Can't be anything spectacular, 'cause I never remember once I wake up. I guess… sometimes I might dream about the book I'm working on. The characters get into my head and I've occasionally worked around a block because I dreamt up the next chapter in my sleep." He glanced over at him again. "What did you dream about?" 

"Lots o' t'ings." Remy rolled onto his side until he was facing Logan, propping his head up with one hand. "When Remy was young he used to dream up dese wild adventures wit' dragons an' magic and epic quests, t'ings like dat. Den when he got older, dey were still pretty wild an' adventurous, but wit' a mo' adult nature. Less pixies an' unicorns an' mo' blood an' battle." Logan raised his eyebrows at that, and Remy grinned. "Papa always said dat Remy had a vivid imagination. O' course Remy sometimes had nightmares, too, an' dey weren't so nice." 

"Yeah, I can imagine." Logan smiled a little, crossing his arms behind his head. "I still get nightmares, sometimes. I think it's the part of my brain that thinks this is all too crazy, that I shouldn't be able to talk to the dead. Sometimes it gets a bit too much and it takes over and I get awful dreams of hands reaching out of graves and dead men dragging themselves up the stairs to come and get me." He shivered, and Remy placed a gentle hand on his chest. 

"Jus' dreams, Logan. Dead men don' crawl out o' graves. We jus' hang around in yo' house an' teach you a t'ing o' two 'bout style." Logan laughed at that, the momentary chill disappearing as soon as it had appeared. 

"Well, can't deny that." He grinned, and Remy returned it – but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes, as though the conversation had reminded him that he was, in fact, dead. "How did it happen?" The question was out before he could stop it, and for a moment he wished he could take it back and forget he ever said it, but it was too late now. 

"How… how'd what happen?" Remy's voice shook a little, and he avoided Logan's gaze. Very carefully, Logan reached out to try and touch him, but he hesitated at the last second. Would Remy even want to be touched right now? 

"Come on, Remy… you know what I'm asking." He kept his voice gentle, and soft, not wanting to seem like he was demanding the information. Remy's image flickered for a moment, and Logan half expected him to disappear completely, but then the Cajun let out a soft sigh, and lifted his eyes to meet Logan's. 

"Remy was murdered." A multitude of emotions gripped Logan's heart at those three words, and for a moment he was rendered speechless. He'd known it wouldn't have been pretty, he'd guessed it had been sudden and harsh and violent – but nothing could ever prepare him for hearing it as fact. Remy – sweet, kind, if a little annoying Remy – had been murdered. Cruelly ripped from the world, ripped from his family and everything he loved. It made Logan angry, but above all else, it made his heart ache for him. 

He'd dealt with murdered ghosts before, and he was almost certain he'd deal with many more – and he always felt angry for them, because it simply wasn't fair that someone had taken their life from them. But with Remy, it felt different. Remy still felt human, _alive_ , to him – and it made it all so much worse. 

"They catch the bastard who did it?" It was the first thing he could think of to say that didn't sound like it had been ripped straight out of a Hallmark card. 

"Non." Remy's voice was heavy with grief – no, not grief, not entirely. Pain? Betrayal? There was definitely something more there, and it only made Logan's heart hurt more. "No one even knows what happened, ot'er dan Remy's dead." He shrugged one shoulder, the act trying to seem casual but failing. He might want to act like this didn't matter, but Logan saw right through it. "Not much dey can do, eit'er. De case has been considered cold fo' years." 

"A cold case?" The same anger mixed with heartache tightened its icy grip on Logan's heart. "Not even a single suspect? No leads?" He did reach out and touch Remy now, laying a hand on his arm before sliding it up to his shoulder. Remy didn't flinch, or pull away – in fact he leant into the touch very slightly. "I'm… sorry. No. Wrong word. I'm angry. Pretty pissed, actually." 

"No need to be, mon ami." Remy sighed, forcing himself to pull away. He stood, and began pacing the room slowly, obviously just for something to do. "Sometimes it happens, non? You hear 'bout cold cases all de time. Eventually dey might get solved wit' some chance evidence, but by den what's even de point?" Logan sat up, watching him pace. 

"Closure for the family? Justice?" He stood, crossing the room to step in front of him, placing both hands on his shoulders now. "Knowing that the bastard who tried to get away with murder is finally paying the price?" He watched as Remy brought a hand up to his chest, gently rubbing the spot over his heart. Logan wondered if he even knew he was doing it. "And often… it means moving on." 

"Den Remy's gon' be here fo' a while', eh?" Remy tried to laugh, but it was forced and his voice cracked within seconds. Logan didn't hesitate this time – he pulled Remy against him, and held him tight. Remy clung to him almost immediately, his head dropping forward to rest against his shoulder, and Logan stroked a hand up and down his back soothingly, wishing he could do something more for him. More than once Remy's image flickered and Logan felt his arms begin to slip through as his body shifted in and out of a corporeal form, but it finally settled a moment later and Remy gently pulled back. "Why you askin', Logan? You t'ink you can solve de case? Find out who killed Remy an' why?" 

"It's happened before." Logan shrugged lightly, a little reluctant to let go of him. Ghost or not, it was wonderful to hug Remy. "Granted it's never been a cold case, exactly, but I'm sure I could-," 

"Non, Logan." Remy cut in, his voice a little sharper but still a little shaky. His hand was back against his chest, clutching at that spot over his heart. "Remy was shot, from behind, late at night, alone. One hit, from a distance. No one saw anyt'in', o' heard anyt'in'. No one even knows why it was Remy who got shot." _Dat's not exactly true, Remy. Shame on you fo' lyin'._  

"A single shot…? To the heart?" Logan shook his head, the words hitting hard. _Well_ , he thought to himself, _at least it had probably been quick_. "I-," 

"If you say yo' sorry, Logan, Remy's gon' t'row somet'in' at you." Remy sighed, some of the fight coming back into his voice. "Remy appreciates de offer, but it'll jus' be a waste o' time, 'cause you won' find anyt'in'." When Logan made to argue, Remy cut in before he could. "It happened, Remy's dead, an' dere's not'in' anyone can do 'bout dat. So jus' leave it." And with that, he vanished. Logan stepped forward, one hand reaching for him, but of course he was gone in the blink of an eye and there was nothing he could do to stop him. 

He sat back on the edge of the bed, waiting to see if he would come back – but after five minutes had gone by he knew Remy probably wasn't going to be back for some time. With a heavy sigh, Logan pulled on some comfortable clothes and wandered through to his office, slumping behind his desk as he booted up the laptop. Remy had said it would be a waste of time, but Logan didn't want to believe that. He desperately wanted to find out what exactly had happened, who had hurt him, and why – had it been intentional, or had Remy simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? 

The single shot to the heart had got him thinking. Many deaths had been at the hand of a gunshot to the heart, but something about the situation surrounding Remy's death seemed different – a shot from behind in the dark, almost certainly a clean hit. Logan knew it was probably just his author brain working overtime, but that sounded like a hit. 

Had someone paid to have Remy murdered? And if so – why? Who exactly was Remy? He'd told Logan he had been known as The Prince but the title was nothing but a nickname, but perhaps there was something more to it than that. A prince was an heir, and usually to a great fortune if not something more. If Remy was an heir, maybe someone had wanted him taken out of the running. 

Immediately his mind went to Henri, the younger brother who felt he'd never escape Remy's shadow. Remy had said they grew closer as they got older, and grew out of their sibling rivalry phase, but what if Henri had still held a grudge against his older brother? With Remy gone, Henri would be next in line to inherit whatever it was that was apparently so important. It wasn't unheard of for siblings to fight and kill in the name of inheritance. 

Of course, Henri could be completely innocent. Which generated another question – if not Henri, then who? Had Remy pissed someone off, someone who was powerful in all the wrong ways and had friends in low places? Considering his general personality and attitude, it wasn't hard to imagine him saying the wrong thing or hitting on the wrong girl. 

It was impossible to know until he had more details, but he wouldn't even think about pressing Remy for more, not now. He only had part of a name, a vague idea of where it had taken place, and no definite date – but he figured he'd be able to find _something_ at least, especially now that he knew a few specific details about what exactly had happened. 

He quickly typed out a search, thankful that he knew a few good websites that would generate more reliable results. He narrowed it down to Louisiana at first, just in case Remy had been elsewhere in the state at the time, but there were so many deaths by gunshot wounds that he knew he'd be there for hours before he made any progress – and so he narrowed it down further to New Orleans, hoping that Remy rarely strayed far from his hometown. 

After glancing at the results he decided he'd need to narrow it down some more, and work his way through if nothing sounded right. He selected articles from the past ten years, set them to oldest first, and started reading. Twice he got up for coffee, hoping he'd see Remy perched on the counter or lounging on the sofa, but he was still absent. Maybe it was for the best – he might not be too fond of the idea of Logan looking for more details into his death. 

Almost three hours later, and he was about to give up for the day. It would be easy enough to start up again from where he'd go to, and his eyes were starting to hurt from staring at the screen so intently. He'd found nothing that matched Remy's circumstances, and it wasn't looking hopeful – but he didn't want to give up, not yet. He did consider the possibility that the newspapers might not have printed anything about it, that maybe the police were keeping it quiet for whatever reason. After all, someone who had no qualms about paying to have someone killed wouldn't have a problem in paying the police to keep it quiet.

No. One more article, and then he'd try again tomorrow. 

He was only really half-reading at this point, and he told himself he'd have to start again with this one tomorrow because he'd missed most of what was being said – but then a word caught his attention. No, not a word. A _name_. The article had his full interest now, and he followed each word, one hand gripping the desk as he scrolled down further and further.

Once he reached the end, he sat back and stared blankly at the screen, unable to believe his luck. 

He went in with a first name, a vague location, no date, and only a handful of details. He came out with an almost definite crime scene, a date – and a _name_. 

Remy LeBeau. 

\-- 

Logan sat alone on the sofa, only giving half his attention to the TV even though it was one of his favourite shows. His mind was elsewhere, thinking about the article he'd found and the name it had given him. There had been a photograph with the article, and the man it showed was none other than his Cajun ghost. 

Remy Etienne LeBeau, eldest son of Jean-Luc LeBeau, and older brother to Henri Patric LeBeau. A quick search had listed a mother for Henri, and a same-sex partner – Mikael Aramis LeBeau – for Jean-Luc, but no mother was put down for Remy, which he found curious. Remy had been twenty-six when he'd died, five years ago. 

"He'd be thirty-one, now." Logan murmured aloud, and sighed. That was seven years older than he was – it felt strange to think about that. Remy didn't seem like he was older, even though he was still two years Logan's elder despite being stuck at twenty-six. He hadn't been able to find out much else, and he didn't want to linger too long at the laptop, so he'd saved the pages and closed everything down, and gone to make some food. Remy hadn't reappeared yet, and Logan was a little concerned – but there really was nothing he could do, and so he decided to settle down for the night and watch a movie or something. 

He finally turned up halfway through the movie that Logan wasn't really watching. Logan straightened up a little, ready to speak, but no words came. Remy looked absolutely miserable. 

"Sorry." He murmured quietly, not looking directly at him. "Fo' disappearin'. An' fo' snappin' at you." He shuffled a little awkwardly, and Logan smiled at how endearing it was. "You only want to help, an' Remy was a dick 'bout it." 

"No, you weren't. This is difficult for you, and I'm sorry for making you talk about it." When Remy looked up at him, he patted the space next to him on the sofa, and Remy very carefully settled down beside him. "But I do want to help, in any way I can." 

"Will you…" Remy trailed off, sounding uncertain, and then he sighed. "Never mind." 

"No, come on." Logan urged gently, lightly nudging Remy's shoulder with his own. "Tell me." 

"Dis is gon' sound stupid, but… would you hold Remy? Jus' fo' a while?" He'd never actually seen a ghost blush before, but Logan was almost certain Remy was doing just that. "It's jus'… dat was his favourite t'ing, an' it's been a long time…" Logan didn't even hesitate – he draped an arm around Remy's shoulders and pulled him closer, and when Remy melted against him with a soft, content sigh, Logan wanted nothing more than to bury his face in that silky coppery hair and hold him forever. 

He shifted very slightly, leaning back against the sofa and bringing Remy with him, not wanting to let go and somehow knowing Remy needed this more than anything else. Five years was a long time to go without a hug, especially for someone like Remy. 

"I know you told me not to say it, and feel free to throw something, but… I'm sorry, Remy." He sighed, his fingers finding their way into Remy's hair, toying gently with the long tail and wondering what he looked like with it down. 

"Remy's not gon' t'row anyt'in'." Remy smiled, leaning further into him, savouring every second. It felt good, so good, to be close to someone again. "So… did you find anyt'in'?" Logan tensed a little, and said nothing. "Oh, c'mon, Logan… Remy knows you, an' yo' stubborn." He lifted his head, and met Logan's eyes, searching them for a moment, before he smiled. "Guess you know who Remy is now, eh?" 

"I… I just want to help." Logan offered pathetically, expecting Remy to get angry again, but no anger came. 

"Remy knows dat. An' yo' helpin' right now." He settled back down happily, giving another soft sigh of content. "Fo' now, dis is enough." Logan smiled, relaxing. "But did you find anyt'in'?" 

"Shh." Logan murmured, stroking his fingers through Remy's hair. "We'll talk about that another time." He gestured with his free hand to the TV. "What have I told you about talking through my TV time?" Remy's body shook lightly as he laughed, and Logan actually felt it vibrate through his chest. 

"Oh, o' course, désole." He grinned, turning his attention to the TV. "… Didn' you watch dis de ot'er day?" Logan smirked and clamped his hand over Remy's mouth. 

"Shh."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy proves he was destined to sing power ballads and Logan learns how to dance.

When Logan went to bed that night, he met Remy's eyes and patted the space next to him – and when he drifted off to sleep, it was with Remy at his back, a book in his hands and a smile on his face. It had been a long time since Logan had last slept beside someone – a solid someone, at least – and it was strange to discover how much he'd missed the slight added weight on the bed, how there was a definite dip to show there was a second body. Even though Remy didn't sleep, and didn't produce body heat – or, at least nowhere near the same amount – it was comforting to know he was there, and he found himself leaning back against him very slightly. 

Remy watched Logan sleep and smiled as his features relaxed into a softer expression. Logan definitely needed to scowl less and smile more – he had a wonderful smile, and a wonderful laugh. He also gave pretty damn wonderful hugs, too, and he was already craving another one. Still, the warm, hard line of his body against his leg was enough contact for now, especially with the way Logan was leaning into him.

He'd known Logan would look into his death, even if he'd told him not to. Logan was stubborn, as he'd told him, and determined. Remy knew he shouldn't have lied, but if he hadn't, Logan might have stumbled upon something he could do nothing about; and knowing Logan that wouldn't have stopped him. 

Of course, Remy couldn't be entirely sure that what he knew was the truth, and that's why he had held it back. At least, that's what he was telling himself. There was no point in giving Logan a lead that might take him nowhere, especially after five years had passed. Either way, there would be no evidence to prove a thing, and why dig it all up again if it would come back to the same result? 

No. He couldn't tell Logan. If he came upon the information himself, then that was a different story, but there was almost no way that was going to happen. He'd let Logan investigate if he really wanted to, but he knew nothing was going to come of it. There was no way to prove who was ultimately responsible, and they'd never find the guy who'd pulled the trigger. 

He lifted a hand to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of the shot ripped through his mind. He'd felt that something was wrong even before the trigger had been pulled, a kind of intuition he'd always had. He'd known, even then. But the shock of the impact, the searing pain of the bullet as it tore through his chest… nothing could have prepared him for that. He'd glanced down at himself, watching his shirt darken over the breast pocket, and then he'd tasted metal on his tongue and he was coughing blood even as he pitched forward, his knees hitting the concrete before he slumped forward to meet the ground. 

Remy sat back against the headboard, trying to keep his breathing steady and even, not wanting to disturb Logan. Who needed nightmares when your memories were enough to terrify and paralyse? Logan stretched out on the bed, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, and he nuzzled into his pillow with a soft, happy sigh. Very carefully, Remy inched down the bed until he could stretch out on his back – and then he curled onto his side, and pressed his face into the space between Logan's shoulder blades. 

"Remy…" He tensed, ready to explain himself, but when his name was followed by a series of muffled sounds that barely formed words, Remy smiled. Talking in his sleep again. He settled, smiling against Logan's skin as he nuzzled against his back, grinning when Logan mumbled a few attempts at words again. This was what he needed, just this. 

He stayed right there, in that same position, until Logan woke the following morning. He always loved watching Logan wake, because it was always so obvious that he fought it off until the very last moment. He would scowl and groan and even _whine_ before he finally woke up, glaring at the world. 

"Mornin' princess." He grinned as Logan's eyes finally opened, and Logan groaned. 

"Go fuck yourself." Remy laughed and shifted until he was effectively straddling him, leaning forward over him, hands braced against Logan's chest. 

"Yo' always such a ray o' sunshine, Logan." Logan merely scowled at him, and Remy grinned back. "C'mon, sleepy. You got work to do, non?" 

"Go away." Logan whined, making a very feeble attempt to shove him off, but Remy didn't budge. "What time is it, anyway?" Remy glanced over at the alarm clock on Logan's bedside table. 

"A lil' after ten." Logan groaned again, and dragged a pillow over his head. 

"Fuck that." Remy laughed and grabbed the pillow, tugging at it even as Logan held on tighter. They engaged in a tug-of-war game for a couple of minutes, both of them refusing to let go until finally Remy had had enough, and he slipped his hand through the pillow and gave Logan a light but forceful slap. "Ow! Alright, jeez!" Logan shoved the pillow in Remy's direction and sat up, scowling at him. "Get the hell off me, you Cajun bastard." 

"Yo' really not a mornin' person, eh?" Remy laughed, hopping up off the bed and watching as Logan reluctantly dragged himself out of bed. He waited for a moment as Logan wandered into his bathroom, listening out for the sound of the shower curtain being pulled across. 

"Has it taken you this long to work that out?" Logan called back as he stripped off for the shower. Remy waited another moment or two and – there it was. Grinning, he stepped through the door and hopped up onto the washbasin, assuming his usual position.

"Non. Jus' pointin' out de obvious." 

"Well don't." Logan growled back. "Y'know you can be really annoying." Remy smirked. 

"Is dat so?" He laughed. "You don' know not'in', Logan." From behind the curtain, Logan gave a sigh of frustration. 

"Uh huh. Sure. Now do me a favour and stop talking for ten minutes?" There was a pause, and he sighed again. "Of course you won't. Sorry, forgot who I was actually talking to for a moment." 

"Non, Remy can be quiet." Remy's voice was too light, too… _sweet_. Logan didn't trust him. Still, there was nothing but silence from the other side of the curtain, and when it went on for at least a minute, Logan wondered if perhaps he was actually going to do as he asked and be qui-, " _AN' IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALLLWAAAYS, LOVE YOUUUUUU AN' IIIIIII-_ ," … of course he wasn't. Remy broke off mid-sentence as Logan yanked the curtain back to glare at him. "What? You asked Remy to stop talkin'. Didn' say anyt'in' 'bout singin'." 

"You're a fucking ass." When Remy simply grinned, Logan scowled. "Shut up. Don't talk, don't sing, don't even _hum_ or I swear to god I'll… I'll do _something_." Remy mimed zipping his lips, and merely smiled. Logan glared at him a little longer, and then pulled the curtain shut again. He paused, listening for a moment, wondering how long Remy's silence would last this time – and then he went back to showering with a sigh. Maybe, just maybe, he'd behave this time. 

" _TURN AROUUUUND, BRIIIIIIGHT EEEEYES…_!" 

"Why did I ever think he'd listen?" Logan groaned as Remy continued with his rendition of 'Total Eclipse of the Heart'. Knowing he wasn't going to ever shut up, Logan resigned himself to the fact that he'd just have to shower through Remy's singing. 

" _AN' I NEED YOU NOW TONIGH'! AN' I NEED YOU MORE DAN EVER! AN' IF YOU'LL ONLY HOLD ME TIGH', WE'LL BE HOLDIN' OOOON FO'EVER! AN' WE'LL ONLY BE MAKIN' IT RIGH'-,_ " 

"In no universe is this considered right." Logan cut in with another groan. 

"What? You don' like Bonnie Tyler?" Remy laughed. "Alrigh', well how 'bout…" 

"No. Remy, no. Whatever it is, just please n-," 

" _IT'S DE FINAL COUNTDOWN_!" Remy cut in, breaking into laughter almost immediately. Logan yanked back the curtain sharply. 

"No, no, _no_!" He hissed quickly. "Jesus, go back to Bonnie Tyler!" Remy grinned at him, and gave a little bow. 

"As you wish, good sir." He made a show of clearing his throat in preparation, and Logan rolled his eyes as he pulled the curtain back across. _"I NEED A HERO! I'M HOLDIN' OUT FO' A HERO TIL DE END O' DE NIGHT! HE'S GOTTA BE STRONG, AN' HE'S GOTTA BE FAST, AN' HE'S GOTTA BE FRESH FROM DE FIGHT!_ " 

"… I'm gonna regret telling him to go back to Bonnie Tyler." Logan groaned. This was going to be a long day, he could see it now. 

\-- 

Logan hunched forward over his desk, attempting to get as much work done as he could whilst at the same time trying to block out the world around him – especially as Remy had decided that he wouldn't contain the singing to the bathroom. 

" _Where have all de good men gone, an' where are all de gods?_ " Logan took a deep breath, hitting the keys on the keyboard harder in the hope that the clack-clack sound would drown out Remy's voice. _"Where's de street-wise Hercules to fight de risin' odds?_ " With a frustrated sigh, Logan turned to face him. 

"Remy, please-," he broke off, staring at the Cajun as he sprawled obscenely on the sofa, dramatically contorting himself as he carried on regardless of Logan's interruption. 

" _ISN'T DERE A WHITE KNIGHT, UPON A FIERY STEED? LATE AT NIGHT I TOSS AN' I TURN AN' I DREAM O' WHAT I NEEEEEED!_ " He twisted back over the arm of the sofa, his entire body curving with the action, and dramatically threw an arm across his eyes as if in despair. 

"… Are you kidding me?" Logan rubbed tiredly at his face. "Are you gonna do this all day?" Remy straightened up and sent Logan a grin that he really didn't like the look of. "Of course you are." 

"Ey, you gave Remy permission to sing Bonnie Tyler, remember?" He pointed out, still grinning. "Ain' no one to blame but yo'self, Logan." 

"Expressing a preference for Bonnie over Europe is not permission to annoy me with the song all day." Logan shot back, knowing he was arguing in vain. Remy wasn't going to stop – not now, and not ever. Logan was doomed to listen to 'I Need A Hero' for the rest of his life. 

Deciding he needed a pretty strong drink – it was midday, and where Remy was concerned that was definitely not too early – he got up from his desk and left the office without a word, heading down to the kitchen and aiming straight for the cupboard where he kept the alcohol. He grabbed his whiskey and found a glass, and he was just pouring himself a drink when Remy hopped up onto the table. 

" _Somewhere after_ _midnight_ _, in my wildest fantasy…_ " Logan hesitated, and poured himself a double. He turned, taking a sip – and swallowed hard. Remy had thrown himself onto his back on the table, sprawled upon it as obscenely as he'd sprawled on the sofa. " _Somewhere jus' beyond my reach dere's someone reachin' back fo' me…_ " 

"Remy-," 

" _RACIN' ON DE THUNDER, AN' RISIN' WIT' DE HEAT,_ " Remy twisted on the table, his hands sliding down his chest in a way that made a flush creep up Logan's neck, and he sank his teeth into his lip as Remy arched up under his own touch, " _IT'S GON' TAKE A SUPERMAN TO SWEEP ME OFF MY FEET!"_ Logan felt the flush spreading to his face as his eyes found the sliver of smooth skin where Remy's shirt and waistcoat had ridden up, and when his gaze slid lower to the sharp lines of his hips, he quickly knocked half his drink back and turned away before his body betrayed him.

"Did you do this around your own house?" He took another drink, hoping it would keep his voice level. "Writhing around on bits of furniture and belting songs out at the top of your voice?" He turned back when he had himself under control, and raised an eyebrow. "Or is this just for my benefit?" Remy sat up, legs spread sinfully wide, and gave Logan the biggest shit-eating grin he could manage. 

"Bit o' bot'." He shrugged one shoulder, the grin never faltering even for a second. "Remy used to dance 'round de house, too." 

"Oh? And why haven't I been gifted with that, too? Holdin' out on me?" Logan smirked. Remy hopped down off the table, not bothering to straighten out his clothes. 

"Give Remy some music, an' he'll dance real nice fo' you, sugah." He wandered over to Logan, hips swinging with the movement, and Logan rolled his eyes. "An' if yo' real generous wit' de tips, maybe Remy give you a private dance, eh?" 

"You're really somethin' else, huh?" Logan laughed, downing the rest of his drink and setting the glass to one side to deal with later. At least he'd stopped singing – for now. 

"Don' act like yo' not interested." Remy grinned, cocking his hip out to one side and putting a hand upon it. "Remy could walk into a bar an' all de eyes were on him immediately." 

"Were you dressed in thigh-high boots and hotpants?" Logan raised his eyebrows with a grin, and Remy simply gave him a sly smile in return. 

"Not always." Logan threw his head back with a laugh, and Remy's smile grew into a grin. 

"Now I'd kill to see that." Remy raised an eyebrow, still grinning – and then he had an idea. 

"If yo' serious 'bout dat, den Remy knows where you can find it." At Logan's look of surprise, he laughed. "Dere's a video on YouTube, unless it got taken down fo' whatever reason. Pretty sure it was Henri who filmed it." He shrugged a little. "Since you already know Remy's name, don' see why not." 

"Are you serious?" Remy nodded, and Logan grinned. "Well I've gotta see this for myself." Remy led the way back up to Logan's office, and before Logan could sit down Remy hopped into the chair and brought up YouTube, typing something into the search bar. Logan read the words 'Remy LeBeau dance off' before the page loaded and Remy was clicking on a video. 

"Dere. Sit down, an' enjoy." He got up out of the chair so Logan could sit down, instead perching on the arm and leaning in a little as the video loaded. "Dis was 'bout two years befo' Remy died. Some guy in a bar who didn' know better challenged Remy to a dance-off, an' well… you'll see." The video began to play, a little shaky at first as the cameraman – Henri, presumably – got the angle right. The beat of music pounded in the background, along with muffled sounds of voices. A guy in drainpipe jeans and a white shirt stood awkwardly in the middle of the dancefloor, which was bordered by a huge crowd of people – and all of them erupted into cheers and applause as Remy stepped out onto the dancefloor, and another man very carefully removed the long coat from his shoulders. 

The boots were actually to his knees, and the shorts weren't quite hotpants but they were definitely made of some kind of leather or PVC. Above the waist he was dressed normally – a button-up shirt of some dark colour, only buttoned half way so a V of skin was exposed, and a fedora perched upon sleek coppery hair. 

"And why exactly are you wearing tiny shorts here?" Logan asked as he watched Remy do a lap around the edge of the crowd, blowing kisses to many of the young women and some of the young men. One of them, braver than the rest, tried to smack a hand against Remy's ass, but Remy whirled at the last second and caught him by the wrist, waving a finger on his free hand as if to say 'naughty, naughty'. 

"Dat's a long story." Remy laughed. "Involvin' a game o' strip poker." At Logan's raised eyebrow, he shrugged with a grin. "Remy's jeans are in de back room o' de bar somewhere, along wit' his waistcoat. Don' worry. De ot'er guys are still back dere gettin' dressed, 'cause dey lost mo' clot'es dan Remy." 

"Just a regular night for you, then?" Logan laughed, shaking his head a little. He turned back to the screen as the music changed, and the awkward guy in the white shirt began to dance. He wasn't bad – his arms flailed a little and he was obviously trying too hard, but he could dance a hell of a lot better than Logan could. "Let me guess – you totally own this guy without even trying?" Remy's only answer was a grin, and he nodded at the screen as the other guy came to a stop. 

Remy stepped forward with another round of cheers from the crowd, and he tipped the fedora forward just a little before he launched into a dance. Logan found his jaw dropping as Remy began to move, his body like liquid as he twisted and whirled to the music. To someone as uncoordinated as Logan, it seemed as though his legs had a mind of their own, pulling some fancy moves as Remy's upper body contorted and twisted to match them. 

"Jesus, you can move…" Logan murmured, eyes transfixed on the movements of Remy's hips as he danced literal circles around the other guy. 

"Why t'ank you, Logan." Remy grinned, watching as the challenger held up both hands in surrender after a second round each, and the crowd erupted into cheers again as Remy spread his arms out to welcome it. The video went on for about a minute after the dancefloor was cleared, and Logan raised his eyebrows as Remy strode up to the guy who'd taken his coat, and pulled him flush against him for a deep, rough kiss. Eyebrows still raised, he turned to look at Remy, who simply shrugged and gave him a smug little smile. "What? Remy was celebratin'!" 

"By shoving your tongue down his throat?" 

"Well people migh' have objected if Remy had shoved his tongue somewhere else, non?" Remy grinned that same shit-eating grin as before, and stood, smoothing out the front of his waistcoat. "So, now dat you've seen dat Remy can dance, do you want him to dance fo' you o' not?" 

"If you want to, I ain't gonna stop you." Logan shrugged, turning the chair to face the rest of the room as Remy stepped into the middle of the open space. "I take it you really love to dance, huh?" 

"Oui. It's de best t'ing, especially in de middle o' a club wit' all dose bodies pressin' close, grindin' toget'er…" Remy closed his eyes, his hips moving to music only he could hear. "An act so innocent, yet at de same time so very, very sexual…" His hips rolled, the movements becoming a touch more sensual now, and Logan licked his lips, remembering how he had looked in those little shorts. "Best place to pick up someone fo' de night… jus' move wit' dem on de dance floor, get a feelin' fo' how dey'd move between de sheets…" As Logan watched, Remy tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and tipped his head back, his hands sliding up from his thighs to his hips, and then up over his stomach. 

"Y-Yeah…" Logan swallowed thickly, and Remy opened his eyes, coming to a complete stop. 

"Do you dance, Logan?" He stood, hands on his hips, and grinning at him like the little bastard knew exactly what he was doing to him. 

"Uh. No. I don't. At all." Logan shook his head quickly, and Remy rolled his eyes. 

"Oh, bullshit." He stepped forward and leant over Logan to type something on the laptop, and Logan closed his eyes with an inward groan. This was starting to become a problem. "C'mon. Up." He waved his hands at him, gesturing for him to stand up, and when Logan hesitated he rolled his eyes again and pulled him to his feet. Music began to play from Logan's laptop, and Remy took Logan by the wrist and dragged him into the middle of the room. "Everybody dances, even if dey never admit to it." 

"No, I really don't." Logan insisted, but Remy wasn't listening – he was already moving to the music, hips swinging and rolling, and Logan wasn't entirely sure how he was going to make it out of this without an embarrassing situation. 

"Jus' feel de music, Logan." Remy's hands were suddenly on his hips, guiding them to move, and Logan felt his cheeks burning as Remy pressed up closer to him. "An' jus' move… don' t'ink 'bout it, jus' do it." Logan felt awkward and embarrassed, but his hips were moving and Remy was dancing against him and all Logan could think about were those tiny shorts and the smooth, long line of his legs. 

This was the closest they'd been, except for when they'd hugged. Logan could actually feel Remy's breath against his cheek – impossible, of course, since Remy wasn't technically breathing, but he felt _something_ – and he could see what appeared to be freckles, very faint, spreading across Remy's cheek and over the bridge of his nose. He hadn't known Remy had freckles. 

He was actually disappointed when the song ended, and Remy stepped back away from him, his hands dropping from Logan's hips. He moved away, hurrying to the laptop, clearly intending to select another song, and then he returned to Logan and flashed him a smile. When the music began to play, Logan glanced over at him surprise – it was a slower song, and one he knew well. 

"Figured you migh' be mo' comfo'table wit' a different style o' dancin'." Remy smiled, holding out one hand to him. Logan returned his smile as he realised it was an offer to dance, and he found himself taking his hand and settling his other hand on Remy's waist. He hadn't slow-danced much in his life, and he didn't know much beyond swaying and shuffling around, but he figured it would be enough. 

"I'm a bit more familiar with this, so yeah…" He laughed a little, letting Remy lead since he was clearly the more experienced one. The mood of this felt completely different – instead of noticing how close Remy was, he was instead noticing how nice Remy's hand felt in his own. Remy was taller, too, which was something he hadn't really noticed before. Not by much, but he had to look up a little for their eyes to meet. 

"Papa taught Remy how to dance like dis. He always said dat dancin' was a skill everyone should have, 'cause you never know when you migh' need it." Logan smiled, his hand sliding round to rest against Remy's spine. He stumbled a little, struggling with the footwork as Remy guided him backwards, and Remy laughed gently and helped him maintain his balance. "Guess it's a skill you struggle wit', non?" 

"Yeah I… I've never been good at it." Logan shrugged. 

"Don' t'ink 'bout it. Jus' follow Remy's lead, eh?" He smiled softly. "Step to yo' left, den you step fo'ward, den step to yo' righ', an' den back…" Logan followed the instructions carefully, and grinned when he didn't stumble once. "An' den we turn, an' do it all again." Remy turned them, and Logan followed, easily falling into step with him. "If you t'ink too much, you make mistakes. Jus' go wit' it, an' it'll come to you naturally." 

"You're good at this." Logan smiled, suppressing a slight shiver as Remy's hand pressed against his lower back. "Teach many people to dance?" 

"Non, not really." Remy smiled back at him. "An' yo' de firs' man Remy's taught." 

"Well, consider me honoured." Logan murmured, not breaking eye contact with him. "And thanks." 

"Yo' welcome, Logan." Remy leant down a little, and Logan smiled again as their foreheads touched. He was amazed at how _right_ this felt, and he closed his eyes with a soft sigh as he leant into him. When the song came to an end, they danced on for another minute or so before they finally came to a stop, and pulled away – but their hands remained linked until the very last moment, and when they finally stepped back, their fingers caught each other's for a brief second before they fell away. 

Logan already missed it. 

\-- 

Since his time to work had been cut short by singing and dancing, they spent the evening a little differently to usual. The TV was on, but neither of them were really watching it – Remy was sprawled on the sofa, his legs draped across Logan's lap, reading the next book in Logan's series, whilst Logan balanced the laptop on top of Remy's legs as he tried to find any more information on Remy and the events leading up to his death. Remy knew what he was doing, and hadn't tried to stop him, and so Logan had taken that as consent. 

Occasionally he would pause and lean over, trying not to disturb Remy, and pick up his beer. From time to time Remy would lower the book and comment on something that had just happened in the story, or offer a suggestion to him for the one he was still working on. It all felt very, very domestic. 

"Hey, you didn't tell me you have a degree in English Literature." Logan murmured casually as he scrolled through a page of information about Remy. He took a swig of beer and glanced over as Remy lowered the book. 

"You never asked." He shot back with a smile. "But oui. Remy also has degrees in ancient history, art an' he's a Grade 10 piano player." He smirked. "But yo' probably readin' 'bout dat righ' now, eh?" Logan laughed, and nodded. 

"Yup. It's all here…" He scrolled on as the page listed other skills Remy had – it mentioned ballroom dancing amongst other types of dance, semi-fluent in German and Italian as well as being bilingual – French and English, of course – and he was highly skilled in the use of a Bo staff. Also listed beneath everything, to Logan's amusement, was a talent for winning at cards, more specifically poker. "Is there anything you can't do, out of curiosity?" 

"Remy's hopeless at astrophysics." He grinned, and Logan rolled his eyes with a laugh. "You know you could ask Remy dis stuff if yo' dat curious." Logan glanced back at him with a smile. 

"I know, I just… I didn't think you'd want to talk about it." He shrugged. "Well, you love talking about yourself, but I mean…" 

"Oui, Remy knows what you mean." He lifted the book again. "But you never know until you ask, eh?" Logan logged that away for future reference – he wasn't going to get into any of those details later. It was far too late to be thinking of such things, and so he focused instead on reading up more on who Remy had been. He found a photograph of Remy posing next to the most beautiful bike Logan had seen, all shining chrome and sleek black and, to Logan's surprise, glaring hot pink. He smiled over at Remy, who was lost in his book once more, and decided to ask about the bike another time. 

A couple of hours later and Logan caught himself drifting off in front of the screen, and so decided it was probably time for bed. He was already half-asleep by the time he undressed and dropped onto the bed, and Remy laughed as he nudged him over to make room beside him. Logan settled down on his side, facing Remy as the Cajun stretched out on the bed next to him, book in hand, and he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face. 

Remy watched him for a moment, smiling as he remembered how nice it had been to dance with him, and how the feeling of Logan's hand in his had been so, so wonderful. Very carefully, so as not to wake him, Remy slipped one hand into one of Logan's, and sighed softly. Oh yes, this felt right. It felt right, and it felt good, and Remy only wished it could happen more often. Logan nuzzled into his pillow, and his fingers closed around Remy's hand and held it tightly. 

Remy opened up his book with his free hand, and settled down for the night with a grin on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan takes Remy on a road trip.

Logan didn't mention anything about the hand-holding the next morning, but he did give Remy a smile as he staggered out of bed and didn't put up too much of a fight even though Remy had yet again woken him at ten. Logan chose that morning to go for his run, and whilst he was gone Remy decided to clear up Logan's mess from the night before. Although he refused to be Logan's housemaid, he simply couldn't leave the dishes on the side to grow mould before Logan actually got up off his ass and did them himself. 

"Remy may as well be his damn housemaid." He huffed. "T'ough dat would require him to get paid." He raised an eyebrow at the pile Logan liked to call the recycling and sighed. "No amount o' money would be wort' it." He finished up with the dishes and collected up the recycling into a neat pile that wasn't threatening to take over the entire corner of the kitchen. Logan could deal with that later. 

Not knowing quite what else to do and figuring he had at least another half an hour until Logan returned home, he wandered through to the living room and sprawled on the sofa, intending to read for a bit but the book remained on the coffee table. Instead Remy's mind was focused almost solely on Logan – and how yesterday had made him feel. For the first time since his death, Remy had felt truly alive, and warm. He'd been _happy_. 

Knowing that, he didn't really want Logan to find a way to help him move on. He didn't know if Logan would be successful in finding out the truth behind his death, or even if the proof would be what led him to the great beyond, but he really didn't want to find out. As lonely as it was, he liked being here, liked being able to see his family and still be close to them, and he liked being in Logan's company. Whatever lay on the other side terrified him, really, even if it was where he was meant to be. 

With a sigh, he picked up his book and started up where he'd left off earlier that morning, needing to distract his mind from things he didn't want to think about. Logan might decide to ask him questions once he got back, and it would be good to give his mind some peace before he forced it to go through things that were still incredibly painful for him. He caught himself before he could touch the spot where the bullet had made its exit, and closed his eyes, only opening them again once he was sure he had himself under control. 

Logan returned about fifteen minutes later, a little out of breath and slightly pink in the face, and Remy looked up from the sofa as he wandered into the kitchen to splash some water on his face. With a long sigh, he came back into the living room and stripped off his shirt, and he waited for Remy to move his legs before he dropped onto the sofa. That was something Remy had really come to appreciate – Logan could just as easily dropped down on top of his legs, knowing that he could phase out of a corporeal form and Logan would pass right through them, but instead he chose to treat Remy as he would a live person. It was only a small thing, but it meant the world to Remy. 

"Tough run?" He asked with a smirk, shamelessly enjoying the view of Logan's beautifully muscled chest. Oh yes, Logan was definitely the kind of man Remy had loved to be pinned beneath on a regular basis. 

"I guess." Logan dragged a hand through his hair, messing it up as he did so, and glanced down at him. "How far did you get last night?" 

"Remy's on chapter twenty-t'ree." He told him, lowering the book to look at him properly – and to see more of that deliciously chiselled body. "James has jus' worked out dat Nicola was part o' de horrible traffic accident dat he saw on de TV a couple o' mont's back." 

"Ah, yeah. There's a good bit coming up." Logan grinned. "I was really proud when I wrote it out." 

"Well, Remy will be sure to give you his opinion when he gets to it." He grinned back, marking the page and setting the book aside once more. He draped his legs across Logan's lap, and smiled when Logan's arms came to rest over them. "Not goin' to grab a shower?" 

"Not yet. I don't care, I'm too tired." He groaned, tipping his head back to rest against the back of the sofa. "I just want to sleep." 

"Well you can'." Remy pointed out. "You gotta do some work, non? Or yo' agent will be on de phone bot'erin' you 'bout de book an' you'll have to tell her dat you've written not'in' in two days." He smirked. "An' you can' exactly tell her why, eh?" 

"I don't know… if I tell her I had a Cajun singing at me and dancing around my house all day, she'd probably think it was just an author thing." Logan shrugged. "Either that or she'd think I picked someone up in a bar." 

"Well she'd never believe dat." Remy teased, and Logan scowled at him. 

"You're an ass." He sighed, swatting at his legs very lightly. Remy considered letting his hand pass right through his legs, but decided against it. He'd let him have that, this time. 

"So you keep tellin' Remy, but you still keep him around. What does dat say 'bout you?" Remy shot back with another grin, and when Logan merely rolled his eyes he knew he'd won. "So ot'er dan not workin', what's de plan fo' today?" 

"Oh, well… I've gotta grab some more groceries, I think. Nothing much, just a few bits here and there. And I should probably do some more laundry…" He whined at the idea of it. 

"Oui. Yo' gon' start runnin' out o' plaid to wear, an' den de world will end." It was Remy's turn to roll his eyes, and this time when Logan swatted at him he _did_ let his hand pass straight through him. It was always worth it to see that scowl on Logan's face. "Play nice, Logan." 

"I'll play nice when you play fair." Logan huffed a little, but he was too worn out to do much else. "Other than groceries and laundry, I don't really have anything else to do. And I _do_ want to avoid working for today, so…" 

"O' you could jus' go an' work fo' an hour now, an' den at least you can say you did somet'in'. Don' be lazy." Remy chided lightly, nudging at him with the toe of one boot. "If you not gon' do work den do somet'in' as equally productive, non?" 

"I guess…" Logan rubbed at his face, and then patted Remy's legs. "Alright, shift. I'll go do some laundry, then grab a quick shower and then I'll do the groceries. And then we'll see." Remy lifted his legs and watched Logan disappear from the room, only to return about five minutes later with the laundry hamper, which was on the verge of overflowing. The sight of it reminded Remy of the recycling, and he got up off the sofa to wander into the kitchen after him. 

"You need to deal wit' de recycling, by de way. Befo' it comes alive an' tries to take over de house." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it." Logan waved him off, tossing a load of clothes into the washing machine a little haphazardly. Remy rolled his eyes at the sight, and handed him the washing powder and fabric softener when he was done. "So this house of yours… I'm guessing it was always spotless? Did you even have a messy bedroom as a kid?" 

"Non, not particularly." Remy shrugged. "A few t'ings on de floor now an' den but dey didn' stay dere fo' very long. Remy jus' likes t'ings to be organised, dat's all. An' clean." 

"But you were a teenage boy!" Logan straightened up after setting the machine, and he quickly programmed the coffee machine for a half-cup just to keep him going. "Teenage boys are supposed to throw dirty clothes in every direction, and have pizza boxes on the floor with the last two slices of cold pizza still in them, and… and dirty magazines tucked under the bed with a box of tissues that they hope their parents don't find!" Remy raised an eyebrow, and smirked. 

"Is dat what yo' room was like?" Remy laughed. "Well, it wasn't like dat fo' Remy. He kept his dirty clot'es in de hamper, an' if he ever took food into his room he took de leftovers or de trash downstairs when he was done." He paused, and gave Logan that sly smile he was becoming very familiar with. "An' de dirty magazines were in de bedside table, hidden inside a drawer wit' a false bottom." 

"… You're kidding." Logan laughed, and Remy shook his head with a grin. 

"Non. Remy made it himself. O' course Papa knew 'bout dem somehow, but he didn' care." He shrugged. "Papa always had a very open and casual attitude towards sex an' stuff. Guess dat's why Remy does, too." 

"Bet it was easy for you to express interest in men as well as women, what with your dad being with another guy." Logan mused, wondering what that might have been like. He hadn't exactly cared what his parents thought of him with regards to his sexual orientation, but he still hadn't wanted to talk to them about dating guys. 

"Oui, Papa made it very clear dat he didn' care who it was we chose to love, or chose to bed, as long as we were safe, an' careful, an' came to him if we got into trouble." Remy shrugged again. "An' Mika, Papa's husband – 'cause dey did get married, even t'ough it's still not legal most places – well he was always dere if Remy needed to ask stuff dat migh' be a lil' embarrassin' fo' a boy to ask his Papa, y'know?" 

"Oh yeah, I can imagine." Then, his curiosity got the better of him. "What kind of stuff?" Remy grinned, following Logan as he gathered up the recycling and carried it through the house and out to the car. He'd dispose of it on the way to the supermarket. 

"Well… Mika taught Remy de best ways to find pleasure… y'know, ot'er dan de obvious." Logan glanced at him in surprise, and then blushed very faintly when he realised what Remy was talking about. "An' Remy sometimes asked questions 'bout de t'ings dey did toget'er, jus' to learn 'bout what was good o' not." 

"And he didn't care? I mean… some people might consider that pretty personal, and awkward to talk about with their kids." Logan wandered back to the kitchen to get his coffee, grateful for the warmth and the caffeine. 

"Not fo' Mika, or Papa, really. Dey told us dat sex was de most natural t'ing in de world, an' no one should be embarrassed to talk 'bout it." Remy hopped up onto the counter as Logan carefully sipped at his coffee, quite happy to talk about this with someone again. "Papa was real proud when Remy told him he lost his virginity, bot' wit' a girl an' wit' a boy." 

"I know I shouldn't be surprised that you told them, but… I am." Logan laughed, shaking his head a little. His parents had never been told about the first time he went all the way with someone – mostly because that first time had been with another boy and Logan hadn't been sure how they'd feel about that, but also because he wasn't at all close to either of them and it just wasn't something he would ever want to talk about with them. They'd tried to him 'the talk' once when he was just hitting puberty and it had been so awkward and embarrassing that when he'd asked if he could be excused because he had homework, they'd let him go barely five minutes into the conversation and it had never been attempted again. Logan didn't know why a lot of parents seemed to think they _had_ to talk about it with their kids – schools pretty much covered the basics, and the internet taught everything else. 

His mother had also once pulled him aside to ask why he hadn't brought a girl home to meet the parents, and Logan had almost been tempted to tell her he'd brought a lot of girls home, she just couldn't see or hear them and oh, by the way, they've all been _dead_ – but even if he wasn't close to her he didn't want to make her feel awful about asking and he didn't want to risk that she'd admit him to a hospital under the claim that he'd lost his mind. Instead, he'd merely shrugged and said the moment he found one he wanted to bring home, she'd be the first to meet her. 

He'd never brought a girl home. 

It wasn't that he hadn't had girlfriends, because he'd had a couple over the years. One of them hadn't lasted longer than two weeks, and it had been a mutual split where they'd both agreed it just wasn't working out. The other had lasted a little bit longer but she'd come to Logan one evening and confessed that she'd been seeing someone else, and that it was a girl and she thought she was gay and she was sorry she put him through this. Logan had laughed – gently, so she didn't think he was laughing at her – and told her he was actually glad she was breaking up with him because there was this really cute guy he'd been flirting with that he thought he might have a chance with. They'd parted friends, although they lost touch after a couple of years. 

He'd definitely had more relationships with guys than he had with girls, though a lot of them hardly counted as relationships and were technically just one-night stands that stretched out over a few dates and then fizzled out. Logan knew it was mostly his own fault that they ended – he'd never really worked out how he might get around the fact that he had ghostly company on a regular basis, and telling someone he talked to the dead was definitely not the way to set the foundations for a long-term relationship. So instead of making a commitment, Logan inevitably ended up drifting apart from them, and then they'd break up and go their separate ways and Logan would end up right back where he started. 

He'd never actually had a relationship longer than a few months, and that was pretty depressing, really. _Remy's the only guy who's ever stuck around this long._  

"Remy told his Papa everyt'in'." Remy shrugged, bringing Logan out of his thoughts. He drained the rest of the coffee, knowing he had to get a move on and pick up the groceries. He'd grab a shower later, when he could actually be bothered. He didn't care about going out in public like this, though of course he would need a shirt. He rummaged into the hamper and found a shirt that looked and smelled clean enough, and tugged it on. "Yo' disgustin', you know dat, right?" 

"I'm having a lazy day and I don't care what people think." Logan shrugged. "I'm only going out for a few things anyway." He grabbed his keys, and glanced over at him. "You comin'?" 

"Got yo' phone?" Remy grinned as he hopped down off the counter and followed him out to the car. Logan smiled back at him, and patted his pocket in answer. 

\-- 

"So you really think I should throw in that romantic interest, just to stir things up?" As usual, Logan balanced the phone against his ear as he pushed the cart around the supermarket, Remy perched upon the end and telling Logan what he did or did not need to put in it. 

"Oui. Not de main focus, 'cause dat always sucks. An' it shouldn' be a woman. Dat's done way too much." Remy replied, rolling his eyes as Logan tossed several bags of chips into the cart. "Good t'ing you run, Logan. Ot'erwise you migh' start puttin' on a few pounds." 

"Shut yer face." Logan grumbled back, throwing in another bag just to spite him. "So you think I should make James gay?" 

"O' course. Well… not necessarily _gay_ , Logan. Dere are ot'er possibilities, y'know. Bisexual, pansexual…" Remy shrugged. "Eit'er way, it needs to be a guy." 

"Huh. That's an idea…" Logan nodded, grabbing some more popcorn since he had a feeling they were almost out and movie night was coming up. "Could be interesting, yeah. Maybe I will." He realised someone was trying to get his attention, and he turned and smiled when he saw it was Ororo. "Hold on, Remy. I'll, uh… call you back…" Remy rolled his eyes at that, and then mimed zipping his lips. Considering the last time he'd done that, Logan hoped he wouldn't burst into song again. Logan pretended to end the call and dropped his phone back into his pocket, and Ororo walked over. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your call." She smiled apologetically, and then raised her eyebrows as her smile turned curious. "Who was that? I've never heard you mention a 'Remy' before." 

"You should tell her you got a boyfriend finally." Remy smirked. "Dat'll surprise her, non?" Logan ignored him. 

"Oh, he's… just a friend I've been talking to." He shrugged. "He's an English Lit major and we've just been talking about my books." Ororo smiled knowingly, and Logan hoped he wouldn't blush and give himself away. 

"That's good. Does he like them?" 

"I think so?" Logan shrugged again, ignoring Remy yet again as he rolled his eyes. "I told him about that suggestion you made – about the romantic interest for James? He thinks it's a good idea too. So… I think I might try and work it in somewhere." 

"Sounds brilliant." She grinned, and then she glanced into the cart. "Either you're preparing for a party you haven't told me about, or someone needs to teach you about what does and does not count as a balanced diet, Logan." 

"Oh. Uh…" Remy laughed as Logan's cheek flushed faintly pink. "They're for when I work. Snacks, y'know?" Ororo raised an eyebrow, and Logan sighed. "I'm just picking up a few things. This isn't all I eat." 

"If you say so." She laughed. "So this Remy…" Logan groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

"No, it's not what you're thinking." He told her with a sigh. "He's just a friend." 

"For now, maybe." She sent him a wink, and adjusted the basket she was carrying on one arm. "Anyway, I was going to call you actually – everyone told me how impressed they were with the dinner party you threw, and you've been invited to Erik's next week if you want to come." 

"Oh, uh… that sounds good, yeah. Sure, alright." He smiled. "Give me a call with the address and stuff and I'll be there." 

"I will. I'll let you get back to your shopping." She gave another look at the contents of the cart, and then wandered off with a laugh and a wave. Logan waved back, and then groaned. 

"Why does everyone assume you're my boyfriend?" Remy hopped down off the end of the cart and patted his shoulder. 

"Well, we live toget'er, sleep in de same bed, an' have regular movie dates on de sofa. Time to face it, Logan." He smirked. "Remy _is_ yo' boyfriend." 

"Great." Logan sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "I finally get a long term relationship with a guy and he's a ghost." Remy laughed at that, and hopped back up onto the edge of the cart. 

"Pretty sure dat's illegal, Logan." 

\-- 

Logan had already decided that he wasn't going to be doing any work for the day. Instead, he went around to the garage and settled down beside his bike, deciding to give it a good clean and see if anything needed fixing up. He hadn't ridden her in a long time, since it was easier to just take the car. Remy had spent a good three minutes circling the bike after he'd uncovered it, admiring it without actually touching it, and it made Logan smile, remembering the beautiful bike Remy had once owned. 

"I saw a photo of you last night." He began casually as he wiped down every inch of chrome until it was practically sparkling. "Next to a pretty incredible bike." He glanced up and over at him, and grinned. "Hot pink? Really?" 

"Don' hate." Remy grinned from his perch on the workbench Logan used solely for a place to throw his tools when he wasn't using them. "Dat whole 'pink is fo' girls' t'ing is bullshit." 

"Not hatin'." Logan laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Just wouldn't have picked that colour myself." He nodded at the bike in front of him, in sleek black and yellow. "This is more my style." 

"Clearly." Remy shrugged. "Pink has always been one o' Remy's favourite colours. When Papa bought dat bike fo' Remy, he jus' knew it had to be pink." He grinned. 

"Was it a birthday present or something?" 

"Non. Remy got dat when he graduated high school." Logan raised his eyebrows, wishing his parents would have done something like that for him. He'd bought his first car himself after working himself to the bone over a couple of summers, and he hadn't been able to get himself a bike until after his first book had sold well. "Papa bought Remy de bike, an' Henri got a car. Henri never really liked bikes, t'ough he ended up getting' one later anyway." 

"Nice… looks like it was a fast one. Did you race?" 

"Oui. Sometimes." Remy shrugged. "Usually late at night when dere was no traffic. De police didn' really like us doin' dat, but as long as we didn' cause trouble, dey left us alone." Logan didn't quite know what to say to that, and so he simply went on with cleaning his bike. "And usually not'in' happened, but… sometimes dere were accidents." Remy sighed now, and Logan stopped and turned to look at him. 

"Bad ones?" 

"Non. Mostly dey were jus' lil' crashes – some bikes got busted a bit but not'in' too bad. Few broken wrists or cracked ribs, not'in mo', but… but dere was a bad crash once, an' Remy'll never fo'get it." 

"Why?" Logan set the cloth down and straightened up, wiping his hands on the old jeans he'd tugged on before crawling around in the garage. 

"Well… 'cause it was Remy's fault, really." He sighed again, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging them. "Remy should never have raced dat day, he should never have agreed to it." 

"What happened?" Logan moved to lean against the workbench beside him, sliding his hands into his pockets just to give them something to do. 

"Somebody died." Remy told him, voice heavy with guilt and grief. "Remy was racin' wit' him, an' he tried to be clever and cut t'rough a short cut so he could win, an' de ot'er guy tried to follow but he didn' know de pat' like Remy did, an'… de next t'ing Remy knows, dere's dis big crash from behind him an' de bike's in pieces… an' he's dead. On impact." 

"Well, hey… you're not to blame, y'know." Logan took one hand out of his pocket and put an arm around his shoulders, smiling a little as Remy instantly leant into him. "He didn't have to follow you down there. It's not your fault." 

"Remy should have known he would do dat, t'ough. Julien was always tryin' to get one up on Remy, tryin' to show him up. Dat whole 'anyt'in' you can do, I can do better' crap, y'know? Remy should have stuck to de streets, instead o' goin' down dat alley…" He pressed further into Logan, and he lightly ran his hand up and down his arm in an attempt to be soothing. 

"You've been carrying that guilt all this time, huh?" Logan sighed softly. "Blaming yourself?" 

"Oui." He nodded a little. "Remy didn' get back on his bike after dat, an' den… well, you know." _And then you died._ "Everyone told Remy dat Julien brought it on himself, dat Remy wasn't to blame, but… if Remy hadn't taken him up on de challenge, den de race wouldn' have happened an' den no one would have died." 

"You can't know that. You certainly couldn't have known it wouldn't have been a regular race like always. I know it's easier said than done, but you need to stop beating yourself up about this. You didn't kill him." Remy gave a slight nod, but Logan knew it wasn't that easy. Remy would probably still blame himself for the rest of his, well… afterlife. "Hey, uh… you wanna go for a ride?" 

"On yo' bike?" Remy raised his head, a look of surprise on his face, and Logan grinned. 

"Yeah. I mean you'll have to be on the back, of course… although there's probably a way you could drive without it looking too weird… but we'll see. You haven't been on a bike in too long, Remy. I know you've gotta be missing it." He pushed away from the workbench and checked his bike over quickly, and then he turned back to Remy. "So what do you say?" Remy grinned and hopped down from the workbench, and before Logan could react he'd been pulled into a hug. 

"Dat'd be good, oui." It took a few minutes, but Logan had the bike ready and he pulled on his favourite leather jacket before wheeling it out to the street. He swung a leg over and waited until he felt the bike dip under the extra weight of a second person, and then he smiled as long, slender arms locked around his waist. "All ready to go, mon cher." 

"Alright then." He grinned, starting the engine and sighing happily at the roar that answered him. "God, I've missed driving her." He murmured, patting the bike before he pulled out onto the road and took off in the opposite direction of town. He wanted somewhere a little more open, with less chance of traffic so he could really let her loose and remind Remy what it was like to be on the open road.

Remy pressed firmly against Logan's back, tipping his head back into the breeze and closing his eyes with a smile, remembering just how this had felt back home, when it was just him and his baby and the empty roads of Louisiana. It felt so good to be back on a bike, even if he wasn't driving, and he didn't quite know how he'd thank Logan for giving this back to him.

They drove for at least an hour before Logan pulled off down a dirt track a few miles outside of town, and finally came to a stop at the edge of a huge empty dirty track with nothing else around it – including no people. He turned to grin at Remy, and gestured around them. 

"I think we can let you have a few laps without worrying about people noticing that the bike has no driver." He laughed, dismounting the bike and letting Remy slide forward into position, his hands gripping the handlebars tightly. "Go nuts, but look after her." 

"Remy will." He flashed him a grin, and then he took off with a roar from the engine. Logan watched the bike tear away around the track, and he leant back against a nearby tree and observed with a smile on his face. This had definitely been a good idea. Remy was clearly holding back a little, not wanting to risk the bike even if he couldn't risk himself, but he still handled her like a professional, and it was wonderful to watch. Logan hadn't had many friends, if any, who'd loved motorbikes as much as he had, and he'd have loved to be able to race with someone but he'd never had the chance. Now, watching Remy tear around the track, he wished he had a second bike. 

After a while, Remy pulled off the track and returned to Logan, bringing the bike to a stop beside him. Logan imagined that if he'd still been alive, his face would be flushed and he'd be a little breathless, but only his smile was evidence of the rush of being on the back of a bike in the open country. 

"Having fun?" Logan grinned, stepping closer to the bike. Remy sat back, holding the bike upright with his legs, and tipped his head back with a slight laugh. 

"Oh, definitely, mon ami." He closed his eyes and sighed happily, and then he lifted a hand and dragged it through his hair, fingers catching the tie and slipping it free. Logan watched as he shook silky coppery hair loose, and it spilled down his back in waves. It looked longer loose than it had tied back, reaching almost to the middle of his spine, and Logan wanted to reach out and touch it. Remy, oblivious to Logan's staring, slipped the tie around one wrist to keep it safe, and then reached back to sweep his hair up and over one shoulder. When he leant forward over the bike once more, he lifted his hand again to tuck several strands behind one ear. He was _beautiful_. "What?" Logan blinked, and realised he'd been staring. 

"N-Nothing…" He stammered out, feeling heat rise to his cheeks when the corner of Remy's mouth twitched up into a slow smile. "We should probably head back…" He glanced back in the direction of the road, just to give him an excuse to take his eyes off Remy for a moment. He'd known from the start that Remy was sinfully attractive, but this was somehow different. When he glanced back at the bike, Remy had shifted to the back and was waiting for him to get on. 

When Remy's arms slid around his waist once more, Logan felt his stomach twist and tie itself in knots, and as the line of Remy's body pressed against his own, he had to take in a slow, deep breath before he could even think about starting up the engine again. He turned his head very slightly, feeling soft silky hair brush against his cheek as he did so. 

"Ready?" His voice didn't sound like his own, though he was surprised at how steady it had come out all things considered. 

"Oui." Remy murmured in reply, dropping his head forward onto Logan's shoulder with a gentle sigh. "T'ank you fo' gettin' Remy back on a bike, mon cher…" Logan smiled at the softness of his voice, and he pulled a hand away from the handlebars to gently touch Remy's arm. 

"You're very welcome, Rem." He pulled his hand away, a little reluctantly, and then he started the engine and pulled away, heading in the direction of home. He forced himself to keep focus on the road and where he was going, but all he could really think about was how Remy was making his heart race and his insides tie themselves in knots. He knew this feeling – he'd gone down this road before, but it had never been quite this intense. 

Reaching home, Logan took a little longer to cover up the bike once more just so he could be left alone with his thoughts. Knowing he was hiding, he sighed and wandered back through to the house, and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen when he realised Remy was singing to himself as he rummaged through Logan's fridge and his cupboards. He noticed Logan a moment later, and grinned. 

"Remy's gon' cook fo' you tonight, Logan. Call it a t'ank you." He moved to grab a pan from one of the cupboards, and gestured at Logan with a wooden spoon. "An' cause you eat like a college student on a low budget." He smirked and busied himself with whatever he was intending to cook, and after a moment began to sing to himself again. Logan leant against the doorframe and sighed softly. 

Oh yes. He was definitely falling in love.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan's piecing together the puzzle, and the boys are falling in love.

To make up for his lack of work a couple of days ago, Logan had told himself he was going to lock himself away in his office for several hours, and he was going to get as much work done as possible. It had started well – Remy had taken up his usual place on the sofa with a book, and Logan had outlined a plot as much as possible and even began work on writing an opening to the story, but after a while his mind drifted instead to Remy. In the end, he opened up the internet, and went on a search for more information. 

Now that he had a date for Remy's death, it wasn't difficult to find the news article on the crash that had happened not long before. 'Not long before' turned out to be a little under six months prior to Remy's murder, and the article provided more than enough information – he wouldn't have to seek it out elsewhere. 

Julien Boudreaux had been twenty-seven at the time of his death, which was listed as 'traffic collision' and nothing more. The photo that accompanied the article showed a young, handsome man with blond hair, unsmiling and with oddly cold eyes. Beneath the photo was another, larger photo – according to the caption, showing the rest of the Boudreaux family, including a mournful sister, Belladonna. Logan skimmed through the majority of the article, seeking out key words only, and he paused when he came across Remy's name amongst the text. 

It described the events that led to Julien's death – a race gone wrong, with the competitor listed as Remy, The Prince of the LeBeau family, and went on to mention a long-standing rivalry between the two families that was no doubt the source for the race itself. That sparked Logan's interest, and he spared a glance over his shoulder at the Cajun sprawled on his sofa, his attention focused solely on the book in his hands. Not wanting to disturb him with questions that would bring up painful memories, Logan went back to the handy invention known as the internet. 

Typing in 'LeBeau', 'Boudreaux', 'New Orleans' and 'rivalry' brought up some interesting results. Logan skipped past any websites that didn't sound too professional and went straight for reliable news sites, hoping they would provide some extra information on the apparent family rivalry. The first two results gave him almost nothing, just a few brief articles from journalists obviously struggling for a new story, outlining a rivalry that went back generations. The third, however, was a little more useful. On opposing sides of the screen were photographs of two men who could not appear to be more opposite to each other if they tried – on the left, Jean-Luc LeBeau made a striking intimidating impression, his hair as dark as the designer suit he wore, kept long and tied back not unlike Remy's, with steel-grey eyes partially concealed behind dark shades; on the right, Marius Boudreaux was the light to Jean-Luc's shadow, dressed in a white suit, his hair blond and kept short, and his eyes a deep, dark brown.

Before reading, Logan took a moment to study the photograph of Remy's father – their relation was obvious, as they had the same high, sharp cheekbones, the nose was the same shape, and Jean-Luc's lips quirked in the same sly smile that Logan had seen many times on Remy's face. He found it a little amusing that Jean-Luc appeared to be wearing a shirt of the same shade of purple that Remy wore. Like father, like son. Turning his attention to the text now, Logan began to read. 

It began with a brief explanation and history of the two families – both infamous in New Orleans, considered to be the two most important families in the city (and some opinions stated they were the most important in the state of Louisiana), with both of them being incredibly influential and incredibly rich. Both Jean-Luc and Marius had inherited their wealth and power from their fathers, who had in turn inherited it from theirs – passed down through the generations. The article also mentioned the next generation to follow in their fathers' footsteps: Remy LeBeau and Julien Boudreaux. 

The history included a rivalry that had begun generations ago, when the two families had been at war with each other over anything ranging from land and business ownership to bar fights and secret affairs. The article mentioned how no one really knew how the rivalry began, what exactly had set the families against one another, but that the rivalry still held strong even after so many years. Logan ended up skimming a lot of the history involved as it provided very little of use to him, but he focused again when the article came to a separate heading titled 'Family Loss'. It detailed the tragic accident that had killed Jacques LeBeau and Louis Boudreaux, and even provided a photograph of the grieving sons standing side-by-side at the site of the accident, presumably giving some sort of statement. At first glance nothing seemed amiss with the photograph, but when he looked closer Logan realised that the men standing around Jean-Luc and Marius were staring down the opposing side, and he recognised the shape of guns concealed within jackets, ready to be drawn in a heartbeat. 

"It wasn' an accident dat killed dem." Logan nearly jumped out of his skin, and turned to give Remy an almost guilty and apologetic expression – but Remy's eyes were fixed on the screen. "Papa told Remy all 'bout it, 'cause Remy was still jus' a baby at de time. Apparently, Jacques and Louis met to discuss de possibility of peace between de families, since bot' deir sons had jus' started families an' dey didn' want anyt'in' riskin' de lives o' deir grandsons." Remy had a hand resting on the back of Logan's chair, and it tightened sharply as anger darted into Remy's eyes. "Dey wanted to stop de fightin', an' instead, dey got a buildin' dropped on dem." 

"What?" Logan blinked, surprised, and hurriedly turned to the article to read more about the accident that had killed the two men. "It says here that a fire started in an upper level of the building, and that structural damage was the cause of it coming down… five other people were killed, but most were evacuated." He turned back to Remy. "But you're saying…" 

"It was a fire, alrigh'. An' structural damage, no doubt. Remy jus' knows dat de whole t'ing had a bit o' help along de way." He sighed, trying to hold the anger back. He might have been too young to truly know his grandfather, but he remembered all too clearly the shadow that crept into his father's eyes whenever someone spoke of him, and somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely recalled a smiling older face leaning over him, and a gentle, warm voice making a sound that he would later realise was his name. "Not'in' can be proved, but dere's no LeBeau alive – an' almost certainly no Boudreaux alive – who doesn' believe dat someone wanted dem bot' dead." 

"But why? If they were trying to stop the fighting…" Logan frowned. "Surely that's a good thing?" 

"Papa t'ought so, but he t'inks dere were people who didn' want de fightin' to stop." Remy shrugged. "O' course, after it happened bot' sides blamed de ot'er, an' de fightin' only got worse." Logan sat back, and after a moment, he glanced up at Remy and took a slow, deep breath. 

"Remy… do you come from sort of… I don't know, mafia or something?" The question was almost entirely serious – this talk of planned 'accidents' and murders was too much like something straight out of the movies – and he was actually relieved when Remy laughed and shook his head. 

"Non, Logan. Not'in' like dat." He dropped back down onto the sofa, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Jus' powerful, rich families wit' a grudge against each ot'er, an' it sometimes gets a bit violent. Arguments get started, an' den shots are fired, y'know?" Logan nodded, but his mind was elsewhere, piecing together a puzzle that led to this particular Cajun sitting on his sofa. "It happens rarely, an' usually dey're not life t'reatenin', but it pisses everyone off an' t'ings get nasty fo' a while befo' dey cool down again." 

"So the accident… with Julien? I bet that made the Boudreaux family pretty angry." 

"Oui. Everyone knew dat Remy an' Julien were continuin' on de family tradition by fightin' each ot'er on every level, an' so when Julien died in de race… de Boudreaux family blamed Remy, said he planned it. An' when Papa denied dat, said Remy would never hurt anyone, dey said dat maybe Remy had only meant to injure him an' somet'in' had gone wrong. Eit'er way, dey were furious, but dey couldn' do anyt'in' 'bout it cause de whole t'ing had been ruled an accident." Remy's hands fisted tightly, and he sighed. "Dey sent t'reatenin' letters to Papa every day, t'ough he ignored dem an' jus' burned dem wit'out readin' dem." 

"Why didn't he go to the police? Especially if he had proof of their threats." Logan moved to sit beside him, and Remy gave him a weak smile. 

"Friends in high places, Logan. Bot' families have dem. If Papa had gone to de police, den Marius would have made de report disappear somehow – an' Papa would do de same if t'ings were reversed. It's an unspoken rule dat de police stay out o' dese lil' family disputes. If dere was proof o' actual murder, t'ough, dey'd step in – but as long as dey weren' hurtin' each ot'er, de police let Papa an' Marius deal wit' it." Remy shrugged again. "Marius tried to claim dat Papa had paid off someone to say dat Julien's deat' was an accident, but even his people said dere was no tamperin' wit' de bike o' anyt'in' dat would suggest dat it was planned." 

"God, as if you didn't feel bad enough, huh?" Logan groaned, sliding an arm around his shoulders. "So… what happened after that? I'm betting they didn't just forget that at any great speed." 

"Non, dey didn'. Papa told Henri an' Remy not to go anywhere wit'out each ot'er, o' wit'out a bodyguard, jus' in case any o' dem tried somet'in' funny in retaliation fo' what dey t'ink Remy did. After a while, t'ings got quiet again, but dey were still watchin' us, tryin' to pick fights wherever dey could." He sighed once more, leaning into Logan a little. "Remy tried to bridge de gap between dem, apologised fo' what happened, but dey didn' want to hear it." He fell silent, and then his head dropped down onto Logan's shoulder and he pressed even closer. 

"Want to talk about something else?" Logan asked gently. "We could go and watch terrible movies and laugh at the bad acting." Remy smiled, his hand finding Logan's and holding it gently. 

"Dat sounds nice." 

\-- 

Knowing Remy probably wouldn't want to talk about it for a while – and not wanting to make him – Logan left him at home whilst he went on a hunt for more information. He ended up in the library, in a corner the librarian often reserved for him, out of the way at the back where he wouldn't be disturbed, his laptop open on the table in front of him. Remy had told him things had quietened down after Julien's death, but something didn't sit right with him. 

Remy had also said that the accident that had killed his grandfather, and Louis Boudreaux, hadn't been an accident. Surely, if that was possible, then it was also possible that Remy's death had been orchestrated, if not carried out, by Boudreaux hands. They'd been angry about Julien's death, and blamed Remy – even tried to pin _murder_ on him – so it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine them doing something about it when, in their eyes, Remy got away with it. 

He ended up tracing both families back a number of generations, trying to see if any of them had died in mysterious ways or in suspicious circumstances. If he could prove, to an extent, that either side had, on occasion, intentionally caused the death of the other, then he had grounds to believe that Remy had been murdered by the order of Marius Boudreaux. He had to go back a number of decades, but he stumbled upon records of both sides killing the other in a number of duels. A challenge was issued, received and agreed upon, and the two men – or women, he discovered – would meet at the designated area, and duel. At first it had been with swords, and then with guns. Sometimes, the side who lost would try to take action against the side who won, claiming a cheat, or false play. 

Logan sat back in his chair and compared that scenario with the story Remy had told him about Julien's accident. 

Julien had issued a challenge, and Remy had accepted. They'd met, with their bikes, at the designated start line, and they'd raced. When Julien met his unfortunate end, his family had claimed Remy had caused him to crash on purpose. How was that any different to the duels of long ago? Sure, they hadn't fought each other with swords or guns, and almost certainly the end result hadn't been intended to be death, but it was too similar to discard the idea. 

Logan knew that eventually he would have to travel to New Orleans and talk to Remy's family, but it was something he wanted to put off until he had something solid for them. It would help no one if he came to them with theories that couldn't be proved, and he didn't want to cause an all-out war because of an accusation he couldn't follow up with evidence. More than anything, he didn't want to bring any further pain to Remy or his family. He had to somehow tie Marius in to Remy's death, get enough evidence to support his theory that he'd ordered a hit and had him killed, and then he would talk to Jean-Luc. 

But how was he going to get evidence that an incredibly wealthy and influential man had paid someone to kill his rival's eldest son five years ago? Friends in high places, Remy had said. It was going to be almost impossible.

Almost. 

\-- 

He was still thinking over what to do next even when they settled down to watch a movie that evening. Remy had fetched the popcorn and the beer this time, and Logan nearly jumped a little when he set everything down because he'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard him approach. He looked up and smiled as Remy sat down beside him, getting comfortable, and Logan hit 'play' on the remote. 

There was a chill in the room, probably from the window Logan had left open for most of the day, and he contemplated getting up to adjust the heat, but he was nice and comfortable now and he didn't particularly want to move. Instead, he reached back and grabbed the blanket he kept rolled up on the back of the sofa, and he shook it out and draped it around his shoulders – and then held it open for Remy. Both of them knew he didn't need the blanket, but neither of them cared. With a brilliant smile, Remy shuffled closer against Logan and cuddled into his side as Logan draped the blanket around him. Logan leant forward to settle the popcorn between them, keeping one arm around Remy's shoulders, and he grinned as Remy slid down a little in order to rest his head against Logan's shoulder. 

From time to time Remy would pick up a piece of popcorn and feed it to Logan, who grinned and took it every time. About halfway through the film, Remy lifted the bowl of popcorn and stretched his legs across Logan's lap, setting the bowl back down in an available gap once he was comfortable. If ghosts could sleep, Logan was certain Remy would be drifting off any second. Very carefully he took the bowl and set it down on the coffee table, resting his arm over Remy's legs as he settled back again, and Remy smiled. 

For the second time that day, Remy's fingers found Logan's, and laced together. 

The movie was forgotten now. Logan held Remy just that little bit tighter, and Remy nuzzled closer with a soft, content sigh. Very carefully, Logan slid his hand up into Remy's hair, fingers tugging gently at the tie, and Remy's smile widened into a grin and he reached up to pull it loose for him. Logan laughed gently, his fingers weaving into the soft strands, and Remy closed his eyes again as he slipped his arm around Logan's waist, cool fingers pressing against bare skin where Logan's shirt had ridden up at the back. Not for the first time, Logan was grateful that Remy could be touched. 

When he stepped into the bathroom later that night, he paused in front of the mirror with toothbrush in hand, and watched as tears began to form in his eyes – because he knew without a doubt that he was in love with Remy LeBeau, and there was nothing he could ever do about it. 

"Just my luck." He whispered to himself, knowing Remy was in the next room. "Had to go and fall in love with a ghost, didn't you Logan?" He took a deep, shaky breath, and wiped the tears away before going back into the bedroom. He didn't want Remy to see, didn't want Remy to know – Remy could never know. The Cajun had already taken up his usual spot on the bed, and he patted the empty space next to him when he met Logan's eyes. 

He smiled, and he was only a little surprised when it wasn't even slightly forced. He pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it onto the floor and ignoring the look Remy gave him as he did so. Although he'd done it several times before, he felt a little self-conscious as he unbuckled his belt and kicked off his jeans, especially since Remy's eyes followed them down before travelling back up the length of his legs. 

"Move over. For such a skinny guy you sure take up a lot of space." He dropped onto the bed, nudging Remy's legs with one knee. Remy rolled his eyes and shifted barely an inch over, and Logan grinned as he stretched out beside him. "It's those damn mile-long legs of yours." 

"Oh, you like Remy's legs den, eh?" Remy laughed, lying on his side to face Logan. "Dey're one o' his best features, non?" Logan spared a glance for the long, slender legs, and grinned again. 

"I suppose so." He shrugged, folding one arm behind his head. "Although if I'm honest I think…" He trailed off, not sure if he should actually continue, but of course he'd already started and Remy was giving him a look of pleased curiosity that Logan simply couldn't ignore. "… I think your eyes are a better feature." That surprised Remy – he could tell by the way his eyebrows lifted very slightly and how his little smile faded away. 

"Remy's eyes? Really?" When Logan nodded, Remy dropped his gaze to where his hand rested against the sheets, suddenly finding them interesting. "You don' t'ink dey're… odd?" 

"Oh, definitely." Logan answered honestly, and he smiled when Remy lifted his gaze once more. "Which is why I like them. They're different, truly unique, and damn fascinating." He shrugged again. "But hey I'm just a guy who talks to ghosts, so I'm probably crazy, right?" Remy smiled, settling down against him and draping an arm across Logan's chest, resting his head against his shoulder. 

"Oui. Totally crazy." Remy agreed. "But dat's de way Remy likes you." Logan grinned, sliding an arm around Remy's shoulders to hold him close. There was a soft, content sigh, and one long leg slid between his. 

"You really love to cuddle, huh?" Logan murmured, his hand coming to rest on the arm draped across him, and Remy smiled and nuzzled into his neck. 

"More dan anyt'in'." He gave another content sigh, and Logan smiled again before very carefully reaching for the blankets still bunched up at the end of the bed from that morning, dragging them up over them both. This would be the first time Remy spent the night underneath them, rather than over them. "Goodnigh', Logan." 

"Goodnight Remy." Remy waited until he felt Logan's breathing even out, and then he lifted his head and watched him for a moment. Logan frowned a little in his sleep, and the arm around Remy tightened a fraction, and Remy grinned. 

"Not goin' anywhere, mon cher." He whispered, leaning down to press his lips very faintly to Logan's cheek. "Don' worry." He settled back down, fingertips lightly stroking over Logan's skin, and he sighed again, a smile on his face. "Remy's gon' stay righ' here, wit' you." 

He had to stay. He had to make sure that Logan didn't get himself into trouble he couldn't get out of. He knew Logan had made the connection between the old family rivalry and his death, and it was only a matter of time before he started snooping around in dangerous places. He couldn't let anyone hurt Logan. He couldn't let anyone get hurt because of him. Not again. 

He knew Logan had been right – when it came down to it, he hadn't forced Julien to follow him down the alley, he hadn't led him down there to intentionally hurt or kill him, and it had been a simple accident. He'd known that right from the start, but it didn't stop him feeling guilty, or blaming himself. He still remembered the look on Bella's face when he'd left his bike and run back to the wreckage and discovered Julien's broken body. 

He'd tried to go to her, but she'd pushed him away. She'd _never_ pushed him away before. She'd looked at him through angry tears, and told him not to touch her, not to come near her. She'd told him to stay away from her, because he'd killed her brother. 

He didn't care that he hadn't technically killed Julien. The girl he'd believed he could one day fall in love with had told him he had, blamed him for what happened, and that was enough. She'd turned cold eyes on him, eyes that had once looked upon him with devoted affection, and with lips she had once kissed him so sweetly with she had told him he would never see her again. 

Someone in her family had made absolutely sure of that. 

\--

After another week of research, Logan knew he'd only find his answers in New Orleans. He'd done all he can, but there was nothing more he could do from here. He'd have to travel down there and discreetly ask questions if he could, and try to trace any evidence that would point him to the person responsible for ending Remy's life. 

He'd have to do the impossible. It definitely wasn't going to be easy. 

"I'm going to New Orleans." Remy looked up from his book, his jaw clenching very slightly as he saw the stubborn determination in Logan's eyes. He wouldn't be talked out of this. "I have to. I know you don't think I'll find anything, and that it's a waste of my time, but I want to try." 

"Well, Remy can' stop you." He murmured, trying to keep his voice steady. He couldn't let Logan know how terrified he was for him, how worried he was that he'd piss off the wrong person and end up dead. 

"I want you to come with me." Logan smiled now, but Remy couldn't return it. "I know it'll be difficult for you, and I'll understand if you can't go back, but… I don't want to leave you on your own, and I… well, I like having you around." That, at least, made Remy smile. Of course there was no question about whether or not Remy would follow him to New Orleans. There was no way he'd let Logan go there alone, and unprotected. 

"Remy will remember you said dat, an' remind you o' it de next time you complain 'bout him." He smiled, marking the page and setting the book aside. 

"Shut it." Logan grinned. "So… will you come?" 

"Someone's gotta keep you out o' trouble, non? Wit'out Remy you'll be hopeless." He shrugged. "O' course Remy's comin' wit' you, Logan." _Who else is gon' watch yo' back, eh?_  

"Good, good." Logan stood, intending to start packing as soon as possible – another benefit of working your own hours. He could pack up and leave whenever he wished. He would leave a message for Ororo, of course, telling her he'd be gone for a week at the least. She had a spare key if she needed to check the house, and he'd call her if he was going to be any longer. Asides from that, he didn't need to do anything else in preparation. 

The following morning, he tossed a suitcase and his laptop bag into the back of the car, shoved a bag full of snacks and drinks with it, and consulted the route he'd already picked out the night before. He turned as Remy slipped into the car beside him and settled down, and Logan reached back to pull a book out of his bag, and he set it in Remy's lap. Nobody would be looking close enough through the window to notice a book levitating in the air as he drove. 

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" He reached over and put a hand on Remy's arm, and Remy gave him a gentle smile. 

"Logan, you don' have to worry 'bout Remy. He stayed at home fo' a while after he died, an' it was painful, oui, but… he'll be okay. Promise." He covered Logan's hand with his own, and his smile widened into a grin. "Besides, it'll be good to be back home fo' a while. When yo' not bein' Mr Detective Remy can show you all de best t'ings 'bout Nawlins." Logan grinned at how Remy's accent thickened at 'New Orleans'. 

"Why do I get the feeling that I'll be spending a couple of nights completely drunk off my face and probably getting arrested?" He laughed, and Remy laughed with him. 

"Wouldn' be Nawlins wit'out it, cher." Logan grinned, and started the engine.

"So… ready for a road trip?" He watched as Remy slid down in his seat after adjusting it, and propped his legs up on the dashboard. 

"Always." Logan rolled his eyes and pulled out of the drive, leaning in to switch on the radio before Remy could play with it. He would, of course, mess with it until he found something he wanted to listen to, but Logan didn't care much. He saw Remy open up his book in the corner of his eye, and then – yep, he leant forward and fiddled with the radio. "You really need to get an iPod dock o' some'tin'." 

"That would require me to have an iPod." Logan murmured, turning onto the main road out of town. "There's nothing wrong with the radio." 

"How do you not own an iPod?" Remy raised an eyebrow at him, and then shrugged and sat back after he settled on a song he liked. "Dere are kids half yo' age who have iPods." 

"Remy, I rarely leave the house except for groceries, occasional social gatherings, and for errands." He shrugged. "I don't see the point in having one." Remy rolled his eyes, and turned his attention to his book. 

"Dis road trip will be good fo' you. You really need to get out mo'." Logan smirked, and idly swatted at his leg. "Jus' tellin' it like it is, Logan."

"Shut yer face, Cajun." He smiled fondly at him, and Remy grinned in return. He turned his attention back to the road, and Remy went back to reading, and they settled into a comfortable silence broken only by the music coming from the radio. 

Logan was going to miss that smile most of all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Orleans provides some answers, but not necessarily ones they want to hear.

Logan had never actually been to New Orleans, but he'd seen photographs and clips of it on TV and the internet. Nothing could compare, however – nothing could capture the atmosphere quite like being there for yourself. Remy changed almost the second they entered the city, sitting up straight and leaning forward over the dash to peer out of the windshield, a huge grin on his face. It reminded Logan of the one time he'd gone back to Canada after he'd left it so long ago. There really was nothing like coming _home_. 

He let Remy tell him the best place to stay whilst he was here, and since money wasn't exactly an issue for him, he went with the best option Remy offered and pulled into a hotel that Remy pointed out to him. He caught himself before he booked a room for two, remembering at the last minute that Remy would be invisible to the woman at the desk, and then he carried his things up to the room and let Remy get comfortable on the bed whilst he unpacked a few things, including his laptop. 

"So where you gon' start?" Remy asked idly, and Logan turned to him and shrugged. "Logan, surely you t'ough 'bout dis, righ'? Or did you jus' expect to get here an' den everyt'in' would come to you, eh?" 

"No, I just… well I'm gonna need your help. I need to know where Boudreaux family members hang out, or where they used to… or… I don't know, alright? I'm just hoping some idea will come to me." He sighed. "I just don't want to visit your family until I can give them something solid. No false hope, that's my one rule." 

"Cher, dere ain' any ot'er kind o' hope wit' dis case." Remy gave a heavy sigh, sounding utterly defeated. Logan wasn't going to be so easily put off, however. He knew there was something to find in New Orleans, and he'd damn well find it and give the LeBeau family some closure. 

"I won't give up, Remy. Not until I know for sure that there's nothing to be found." He shrugged, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands on his hips. "So come on, up. Show me your city." 

"Y'know, if you really wanted to see Nawlins, you should o' come durin' Mardi Gras." Remy smirked, clambering up off the bed. 

"Like hell. I'm not a party guy, you know that." Logan grinned, making sure he had his phone, his laptop and his wallet before he left the hotel room, locking the door behind him. He let Remy lead him around the town, pointing out things to him every so often. Logan kept his phone pressed to one ear so he could respond and not draw too much attention to himself despite Remy's claims that no one would notice. People always noticed. 

Remy started out enthusiastic, telling stories about every place he pointed out. The stories, to Logan's amusement, usually always ended up in an act of intimacy. Well, it _was_ Remy, after all. The further they went into the heart of the French Quarter, however, the more it became obvious that Remy was starting to hurt, especially when he started pointing out _people_ as well as places. 

"An' dat's Pierre, de owner o' Remy's favourite bar. He'd keep a runnin' tab open fo' Remy all de time, an' den Remy would have to practically force him to take de money fo' it. He was a good friend." Remy sighed heavily, and Logan wanted to reach out and touch him, but he knew he couldn't. That was a step too far. People would definitely notice that. 

When Remy fell silent entirely, Logan knew there was something wrong. They'd stopped at the corner of a street, and Remy's eyes were fixed on something a little ahead of them. Logan stepped up next to him, and realised he was looking at a man dressed smartly in a dark suit, heading away from them down the street. For a moment Logan wondered if it was his father, but the hair wasn't dark enough, or long enough. 

"Who is it?" He asked gently, stepping closer so his fingers could brush against Remy's hand. 

"Francis." Remy replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "People in England migh' call him a butler, but he was more dan dat to us. He was part o' de family." He sighed again, averting his eyes. "Probably on his way back to de house. He's goin' in de righ' direction." Logan hesitated, unsure of what to say, not knowing what would cheer Remy up again. 

"Do you… do you want to go home, Remy?" He didn't reply for a moment, but then he lifted his eyes and shook his head, watching Francis disappear around a corner. 

"Non. Not yet. Remy will go when you do." His voice shook a little, but he held it together, and Logan gave him a gentle smile that Remy returned. "Anyway, de tour ain' over. You'll probably want de library, to do research." 

"That might be a place to start, yeah." He had a feeling that Remy had somewhere he wanted to be, somewhere he didn't want Logan to follow him to, and Logan would respect that. He probably had a lot of people he wanted to visit whilst he was here, and Logan wouldn't intrude on something so personal, not if Remy didn't want him to. If Remy wanted to leave him at the library, then Logan was quite happy to idly search for any clues as to where he might find a paper trail leading back to the Boudreaux family. 

Remy did leave him at the library – apologising for doing so and explaining that he wanted to go and see someone without disturbing them, and so Logan told him to go, and come back when he was ready. There was plenty for him to do, after all. After Remy had disappeared through a wall, Logan sat himself down, and began to do a little more research on Marius Boudreaux. 

After half an hour, a kind woman, who Logan judged to be in her early forties, wandered over and asked if he needed help with something. Logan nearly told her he was fine, thank you, but an idea came to him rather suddenly. It was one thing to find information about someone from an entirely different state, but around here Marius and his family were well-known. Sometimes asking the locals gave him more than anything the internet could. 

"Actually… I'm doing some research for a book – I'm an author, you see – and I'm including some characters that come from a rich and influential family. I heard that Mr Marius Boudreaux is a big name around here, and I was wondering if there was anything you could tell me. I like my books to be as realistic as possible…" When she smiled and took a seat across the table, Logan had a feeling he'd made the right decision. 

\-- 

For the first time since he'd died, Remy LeBeau perched in the tree outside Belladonna Boudreaux's bedroom window, and watched her curl her hair. Five years ago, he would have inched closer to the window and tapped upon it as gently as he could, and she would have turned and given him a brilliant smile before rushing to open it for him. He would sneak in, pull her close, and kiss her deeply– and then she'd tug him towards her bed, although he needed no encouragement. But now all he could do was watch with a heavy heart. He hadn't loved her, not quite, but she had come too close to his heart for him not to long for her now – even if he had someone else to long for, someone with a brighter smile and a bigger heart. 

When he'd met her, they hadn't known who the other was. It had been dark, Remy's eyes had been hidden behind shades, and her signature blonde curls had been concealed beneath a scarf. They'd flirted, and later they'd kissed, and it was only when the morning rolled around and they saw each other in the light did they realise just who the other was. At first they'd exchanged sharp words, but there was no bite to them, and the argument died when it became obvious they were only fighting because they thought it was what the other expected. They'd kissed again, playful, and when she headed for the shower, Remy had followed her. 

It became a routine for them, and a game. At first they'd only met in bars late at night, creeping away when no one was looking and running off into the night together. No one asked where they'd been, for both had a reputation for having a good time. It had started as nothing more than sex, but then they became friends, too. Remy would send her flowers – anonymously, of course – and Bella would send him letters. They worked out a code so they could arrange to meet during the day, a code they were sure no one would work out. One weekend, Remy drove her out of town and kept driving until they reached a town where no one would know them, and he took her to dinner. After a while, he'd started to sneak up to her bedroom, loving the thrill and the risk of being caught. 

Bella had once told him they were like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, unable to openly be together due to the war between their families. Remy had scoffed at that, calling her a hopeless romantic who didn't understand what the play was about, and that he hoped they were not, in fact, Romeo and Juliet, because he would rather not get married and then knock back poison when he was still in the prime of his youth. She'd hit him with a pillow for that. 

Their relationship had been casual, and they both regularly enjoyed the company of others, but they'd always return to each other eventually. It had been fun, and comfortable, and Remy had really liked being with her – which is why it hurt to watch her now. 

She turned from her mirror and set down her curling iron, and then crossed to the desk where Remy remembered she kept her sketches. She'd told him she wasn't much of an artist, but Remy had appreciated her skill all the same. She stepped out of sight and so Remy moved forward, slipping through into the room to watch her as she sat down at the desk. There was a small wooden box open on the table in front of her, beautifully decorated with carvings of vines and roses. Remy didn't recognise it, but he supposed he hadn't been here in five years. Many things would have changed, and there would be a lot of new additions to the room. 

She was putting things into the box now – and Remy's chest tightened as he realised what they were. First was a fine gold chain necklace that he had given her on their weekend away, and then pressed petals from one of the many bouquets of flowers he had sent her. A number of small things that would have no meaning to anyone else – reminders of their secret meetings, a strip of cloth she had accidentally torn from her dress when they'd gone for a tumble in some bushes, when they hadn't had enough time for anything more – also went into the box. Remy's heart broke a little when he realised she was crying. 

The final thing she placed into the box was a letter. She opened it up very briefly, as if checking the contents, and then she slipped it into an envelope with his name on the front, and dropped it into the top of the box. She locked it after a moment, and then she rose from the desk and picked up the box, tucking it into a bag before standing in front of the mirror once more, checking herself over. Curious, Remy followed as she left her room, trailing after her as she made her way through the Boudreaux house. 

"Belladonna?" He froze when she did, and he felt anger flare up as Marius stepped out into the hallway. "Where are you off to?" She wiped at her eyes discreetly, and then turned to her father with a sweet smile. 

"I'm goin' to meet Jasmin fo' lunch." She told him, and Remy knew immediately that it was a lie. Jasmin had been one of the many excuses Bella had given when she was sneaking away to meet him. 

"Alrigh'. Jus' make sure yo' back befo' Armand gets here. You know how dese firs' impressions go." He warned her, and she waved him off with another smile. 

"O' course, fat'er. I'll be back by den." She didn't give him a chance to object further, hurriedly slipping out through the front door before he could say anything else. Remy had no doubt that 'Armand' was a potential suitor for Belladonna. Marius had been trying to get his daughter to marry for a long, long time. 

He was curious about where it was she was actually going, but he already had some sort of idea. Once she was safely out of sight of the house, she turned down a street heading away from the middle of town, and her smile faded away. Remy knew where she was going even before she passed through the gates to the cemetery. Of course. The box, the letter… it all made sense. 

She was going to visit his grave. 

Both families had the two largest plots in the cemetery, on opposite sides of the wide path that stretched out and around the premises. When Jacques and Louis had been buried, someone had made a potential error and arranged for them to be on the same day. Jean-Luc and Marius had almost come to blows beside the open graves of their fathers. 

Belladonna followed the path around to the LeBeau plot, and stopped, delicately kneeling beside his grave. The tears came to her once more, and she reached out to place a hand over his name. Remy stood over her, feeling his chest tighten for the second time. 

"I miss you, Remy…" She whispered, tears splashing against her skirt as she closed her eyes and drew in a deep, shaky breath. "An' I'm sorry, my darlin'. I'm so sorry…" 

"Don' be sorry, Belle…" Remy murmured, crouching beside her and wishing she could hear him. "Remy knew yo' fat'er wouldn' let it go. It ain' yo' fault, ma chérie." Of course, his words were nothing but the wind to her, and she shook her head slowly as she pulled the box from her bag. 

"I'm givin' back de t'ings you gave me, amour. I don' deserve dem, an' I should o' done dis years ago, but… t'ings were different den." More tears spilled down her cheeks, and Remy so desperately wanted to reach out and wipe them away. "Maybe someone will find dis, an' part o' me hopes dey do. It'd only be righ' dat I face de consequences o' what happened." 

"What are you talking 'bout, chérie?" Remy frowned, watching as she set the box at the foot of the headstone. 

"I t'ink maybe I loved you a lil', my darlin'. I know I wished again an' again dat you weren' a LeBeau, dat my fat'er wouldn't object to us bein' toget'er." She sighed, wiping her tears. "He's still tryin' to get me to marry, you know. Never gon' give up. Sometimes I want to tell him we were gon' marry, jus' to see de look on his face. Tell him dat I won' marry anyone but you. T'ink his head migh' explode if I did, t'ough, an' wit' Julien an' my mot'er gone, he's all I got. T'ink maybe dat's why I don' say a t'ing." 

"We were a long way from marriage, Belle." Remy smiled, shaking his head. "But Remy would o' killed to see you say dat." 

"Dere's never been anyone like you, amour. Dere never will be, not really. Dat's why I'm finally doin' dis… 'cause no matter how hard I try I can' move on from you. Maybe dis will help." She stood, placing the key to the box on top of headstone, and another few tears escaped down her cheeks. "I wish it hadn' happened. I wish I'd stopped it from happenin', but dere's not'in' mo' I can do. I only hope dat yo' somewhere better, wrapped in de arms o' all de beautiful men an' women you could ever hope for." She smiled, and she kissed the tips of her fingers before pressing them to the cold stone. "Goodbye, mon amour." Remy smiled gently, and he reached out to carefully stroke her hair, his fingers brushing against her neck very slightly as he did so. She gasped and turned sharply, and for a moment she looked right at him – but of course she did not see him, and she tugged her jacket closer around her. She hesitated a moment longer, and then she turned and walked away from the grave, turning to give one last look back. Remy watched her go, his eyes shining with tears he would not shed. 

"Goodbye, ma chérie." He dropped down beside his own grave, leant heavily against the stone, and through his grief he called for the one person he knew could comfort him. 

\-- 

Logan was just gathering up his notes in the library when he heard Remy's voice in his mind, calling his name. He'd never had a ghost get into his head this way before, but he knew from the tone of Remy's voice that it wasn't good. He quickly packed his laptop away and tucked his notes into his bag, thanking the librarian once more as he made his way out. He now knew the best places to find Marius, even if he wasn't sure if he'd attempt to confront him – it was just nice to know he had the information he needed if it came to that. 

He followed Remy's voice, not quite sure how he knew which way to go, until he found himself standing at the entrance to the cemetery. Of course. Very carefully, he made his way along the paths winding around, looking for any sign of Remy. He found him after a couple of minutes, leaning against a gravestone with a magnificent sculpture of a man with huge wings outstretched and his arms raised towards the sky. As he got closer, he could read the name carved into the face of the headstone: Remy Etienne LeBeau. Underneath the dates detailing his birth and his death were the words 'Our Prince is soaring high, an angel not yet in heaven'. 

When his eyes found Remy, he crouched beside him, and held out a hand. Remy looked up at him with eyes shining with unshed tears, and slipped his hand into Logan's, holding tightly. 

"You came." He murmured, his voice so thick with grief that it tugged at Logan's heart. Very gently, he lifted Remy's hand to his lips, and kissed it. 

"You called." He sat with him, and since the cemetery was empty, he pulled him close and held him tightly. Remy leant into him gratefully, closing his eyes as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "What happened?" 

"Remy went to see someone he cared 'bout." Remy told him after a moment. "An' she came here, wit' dat box." He nodded at it, and Logan finally noticed the arrangement of things that lined the foot of the headstone. There was a vase of flowers that was clearly well looked after, and a small engraved plaque that read 'Fly high, my son, and live on forever' and underneath that, 'We'll join you in time, so start the party early – and try not to flirt with all the angels'. Beneath the words were the names of Remy's father, and his father's partner. It actually made him smile a little. Remy had been well-loved. Finally his eyes fell upon the carved box, and he almost reached out to pick it up. "Remy's jus' hurtin', 'cause she sounded so heartbroken, an' he could do not'in' fo' her." 

"Was she… I mean, were you and she…?" Remy knew what he was asking, and it brought a smile to his face as he shook his head. 

"Non, not exactly. We had fun toget'er, an' we cared fo' each ot'er, but… dat was all." He shrugged, sighing a little. "If Remy hadn' died, den maybe one day… t'ough her fat'er would never have allowed it." Logan was about to ask why, but his mind was already putting two and two together to make four. 

"Belladonna Boudreaux." He murmured, and Remy met his eyes with slight surprise. "That's who you're talking about, isn't it?" 

"Oui." He smiled again, a little weakly. "She wrote Remy a letter." He glanced at the box once more, and sighed again. "He went to see her, an' he saw her put t'ings in de box… an' dere was a letter wit' Remy's name on de front." He picked up the box, running his fingers over the carving. "She used to write Remy letters all de time…" 

"Do you want to read it?" Remy considered that – he hadn't even thought of opening up the box to read it, but now that Logan had mentioned it… it was very tempting. 

"Dere's a key, on top o' de headstone." He told Logan, thinking it was probably best if Logan opened it. The cemetery was empty now, but there was no way to know it would stay that way for long. Logan reached back, finding the key after a moment, and then he took the box from Remy and unlocked it. The letter sat right on the top, Remy's name written in beautiful script on the top, and he took it out and opened it up. "It migh' be in code… her letters were always in code." 

"Okay, well… here, you'll understand it better." He held the pages where Remy could see them, and he draped an arm around him once more as he began to read. When Remy trembled a little against him, Logan leant in and pressed his lips to his temple, his hand stroking up and down his arm in an attempt to be soothing. Remy relaxed for a moment – and then he tensed so sharply that Logan actually pulled away, sensing the immediate change in the atmosphere. "Remy? What is it…? What's wrong?" He was staring down at the letter with shock, and something Logan couldn't quite place, his entire body trembling once more as tears jumped back into his eyes. "Hey, hey… come on, talk to me…"

"Read de letter, Logan." He'd never heard Remy sound so hurt before, and it made his blood run cold. Not sure if he actually wanted to, he turned his attention to the letter and started to read. 

_My darling Remy, I know you'll never read this, but I need to get this weight off my chest and this is the only way I know how. For five years I've carried with me the guilt of knowing it was my foolish actions that led to you being taken from your family, from me, and I can't bear it any longer. For months and months I cried myself to sleep because I would never see that smile of yours again, or hear you laugh, or hold you against me. I would wake up hoping it was just a dream, that you'd be there tapping on my window with that sly little grin on your face, but my window remained empty, and I knew I'd never be greeted with that sight again._

_I miss you, more than words could ever say. I miss your kisses, and the way you'd play with my hair as we cuddled after sex. I miss the cuddles, too, because you were always so good at them. I miss the way you'd always have a compliment for me, even if I looked and felt like hell, because you were a sweetheart underneath that charming flirt. You made my life more exciting, more wonderful, and I hate that I'm the reason you're gone. Because it's my fault._

_I did it, Remy. I wish I hadn't, and I regret it more than anything else I've ever done wrong in my life, but I did it. I didn't pull the trigger, but I pointed the gun at your head._  

Logan stopped reading, and he turned to Remy, watching as a tear escaped and slowly trickled down his cheek. Without words, Logan held him tighter, letting Remy collapse against him as he let out his grief. Logan didn't know what he could say – if he could say anything at all – to console him. It hadn't been Marius who'd ordered the hit. It had been Belladonna, the girl Remy might have loved one day. Now he knew what that other emotion on Remy's face had been – betrayal.

"Remy… I'm sorry." He murmured into his hair. "I shouldn't… I shouldn't have brought you here. I'm so sorry." He felt guilty for digging into what happened, for bringing Remy back home only to discover the worst possible news. 

"Non. Don' be sorry…" Remy lifted his head, furiously wiping his tears away. "Yo' only tryin' to help, an'… an' dis is what we came here fo' non?" He stared down at the letter, his hands balling into fists. "Can you read de rest fo' Remy…?" Logan, still feeling guilty, nodded. He'd do anything for Remy right now. 

"Of course." He turned back to the letter, and cleared his throat, preparing to read it out. " _I was so angry about what happened to Julien – well, you remember. I was angry, and mad with grief, and I said a stupid thing that I wish I could take back. My father was still trying to prove that you killed Julien on purpose, that somehow it was your plan for him to crash, and I started to believe the things he was saying even though I knew you were better than that. You were different – you didn't care I was a Boudreaux, you didn't have any of that hatred for our family. Julien just pushed you too far sometimes, and you'd fight it out, but… you never hurt him without being provoked._

" _But I think my mind got poisoned against you. I'm not blaming my father – well, maybe a little – but I was vulnerable, and angry, and you became the enemy. I didn't like that you'd gotten away with playing whatever part it was in Julien's death, even though I now know you must have been carrying such guilt with you. I didn't think of that back then. I only thought of revenge, and so… I arranged for someone to hurt you. At first I only wanted you to be injured, just something to serve as a warning, but then I saw you flirting with a girl in a bar and I flew into a rage and said I wanted you to pay with your life. You were shot dead three days later. When I heard, it was like I snapped out of a trance, and it destroyed me._

" _You, my darling Remy, my sweetheart and my friend, were dead. At my hands. I had your blood on my hands and I'd ripped you away from your father and Mikael, and your brother, and from everyone who'd ever loved you. The whole city loved you, Remy, and because of my blind stupid rage, they'd all lost you. I've had nightmares ever since, where I'm the one holding the gun, and I see you through the scope and I'm screaming at you to run but you can't hear me and I can't stop my finger from pulling the trigger. It's been eating away at me since it happened and I can't hold it in any longer._

" _I want someone to find this. I want someone to read it, and learn of my awful crime. I want to be punished for what I did, because nothing can bring you back and I don't deserve to get away with this. My head is clear now. What happened to Julien was an accident, nothing more, and I remember the look of horror on your face as you saw what had happened. You would never have done such an awful thing. You were a good person, far better than I am, and I killed you._  

" _I think I loved you, Remy. I think I still do. I'm only sorry I never got the chance to tell you. Maybe one day I'll see you again, and I can tell you all of this in person. Until then… goodbye, my sweet Remy._ " Logan set the letter down, not knowing what more to say. 

"It was Belle." Remy whispered, leaning into Logan again. "Remy knew someone in de family was responsible, but he never imagined…"

"I'm sorry…" Logan knew how pathetic that sounded, but what else could he say? Remy's heart had clearly just been broken, and that both made him angry and upset. 

"Are you gon' tell de police? Take dis letter an' show dem?" Remy looked up, meeting Logan's eyes, his gaze questioning. 

"Is that what you want?" He asked gently. "Because if it isn't, I can put this letter back, and no one will ever know we've seen it. I can forget what I've read, and go back home as if I found absolutely nothing here." 

"You'd do dat fo' Remy?" 

"I'd do anything for you." It was out before he could stop it, and he almost tried to take it back – but the smile on Remy's face stopped him. He glanced down as Remy's fingers linked with his, and held his hand tightly. 

"Den Remy will take you to see his Papa."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan pays a visit to Jean-Luc LeBeau.

Remy had insisted that they save the visit to his father for the next day – after all, they'd spent most of the day wandering the city and there was no need to do everything all at once. He'd picked out a nice place for Logan to get some food, and told him just what to say in order to get a quiet little corner booth out of the way where he wouldn't be disturbed too much. Logan had smiled to himself as he'd been shown to his seat – Remy knew all the tricks, without a doubt. Remy had also recommended what to order from the menu, which Logan was thankful for, because whatever it is that he'd ordered had been absolutely delicious. 

He was sat nursing a drink and contemplating a dessert when he felt Remy tense up beside him, and he looked up from the menu to glance at him. Remy's eyes were fixed on something across the room, and so Logan followed his gaze to the door of the restaurant where a man had entered, a pretty young woman on one arm. Logan didn't need to ask Remy who he was, because he'd seen him before. He looked older than the photograph he'd seen, but there was no mistaking him. Remy's brother, Henri. 

"Do you want us to leave?" He asked quietly, tearing his eyes away from Henri and very carefully putting his hand on Remy's leg beneath the table. Remy shook his head a little. 

"Not yet." He watched as Henri and the woman were shown to a nearby table, close enough for Logan to hear them as they took their seats. "Mercy." Remy smiled, a little fondly. "He's still managing to hold on to dat sweet girl." Logan, not sure if he should risk speaking now that they had nearby company, merely smiled with him. "An' Mercy looks as gorgeous as ever. How dat boy ever got her to look his way Remy'll never know, but he sure did like teasin' Henri 'bout it back when dey started datin'." Remy inched further around the table, leaning over to listen more closely to their conversation. Logan's smile widened at the look of happy interest on the Cajun's face. 

Logan found himself wondering about Victor, the half-brother he'd only met a couple of times. Would things have been different for him if they'd grown up together? Did Victor have a strange talent like he did, or was he truly alone in this? He'd never really longed to have a sibling in the house, someone to run around with and fight with in the backseat of a car, even after he was told of Victor's existence. He doubted they'd have got along at all, though. Victor certainly hadn't seemed to like him when they'd met. 

Remy was still listening to Henri and Mercy as they conversed, happy to be amongst them once more, and Logan didn't want to disturb him. Instead, he sat back and casually watched them, enjoying how Remy hadn't once stopped smiling. Would he be this happy when they went to his family home tomorrow? Somehow he doubted the smile would stick there for long, considering the reason they were going. 

He was actually a little concerned about approaching Jean-Luc LeBeau on the morrow – there was no guarantee that he'd be allowed to see him, even if Remy told him exactly what to say. Or he might get angry when he told him he had news about Remy, possibly thinking it was some sort of cruel joke or trick, and he might be thrown out. It was always hit and miss with how people would react to this sort of thing, and something told him Jean-Luc wouldn't be so easy to convince. How would he answer if Jean-Luc asked him how he found out about Remy and what happened? He couldn't exactly tell him that Remy had told him all about it, after all. People didn't exactly believe that ghosts were real, and he didn't want Jean-Luc to think he was crazy. 

He'd had a door slammed in his face more than once. 

"Alrigh', Logan. Let's head back to de hotel, eh?" Remy was standing beside him again, and Logan shook himself out of his thoughts and signalled for the check. After he'd paid, he followed Remy out of the restaurant and back through the streets towards the hotel, slipping his phone out of his pocket as he did so. 

"You seemed pretty happy back there." He smiled when Remy did, and resisted the urge to take his hand. "It was really nice to see." 

"Dey were talkin' 'bout a weddin', an' Mercy had a ring on her finger. Guess Henri is gon' get married." Remy grinned, linking his arm through Logan's. "Won' be long befo' dey have kids, really. Dat'd be good fo' de family." 

"Maybe he'll name one after you." Remy laughed at that. 

"Maybe." He leant into Logan a little, guiding him down a street that could be used as a shortcut to the hotel. Logan enjoyed the closeness between them, and he had to hold back a sigh of disappointment when Remy pulled away from him as they entered the hotel. This was definitely becoming a bit of a problem. 

He grabbed a quick shower once they got up to the hotel room, and for once Remy didn't follow him into the bathroom, instead choosing to stretch out on the bed and wait for him there. Logan left him to it, knowing he had a lot of things to think about and he was probably still trying to take in the information that it had been Belladonna who had ordered the hit that took his life. 

When he emerged from the shower, towel hooked around his waist and hair still dripping wet, Remy raised an eyebrow and gave him a grin that made heat rush to Logan's cheeks. Remy knelt up on the bed with a gentle laugh, and he leant in to kiss one flushed cheek very softly, his hands settling on Logan's shoulders. 

"Maybe Remy will take you to a couple o' bars while we're here, eh? Put dis delicious physique to good use." Logan rolled his eyes a little, but he was still blushing. 

"I won't find what I'm looking for in a bar, Remy." He said quietly, keeping his voice level and even. "That's not… that's not what I want." Remy lifted a hand, his fingers stroking through Logan's wet hair, sweeping it back out of his face. 

"Oui, Remy knows…" When he kissed Logan's other cheek, Logan's arm circled around his waist and pulled him closer, holding him tight. Their foreheads touched and Remy closed his eyes with a smile, and Logan mirrored him with a soft sigh. "Would you really do anyt'in' fo' Remy?" 

"I would." Logan told him, angling his head to gently nuzzle his cheek. He felt Remy grin, and he pulled back to look at him. "Even if you're an annoying little shit most of the time." Remy laughed. 

"Oh, but you like dat Remy's a lil' shit, non?" He lightly tugged on Logan's hair, just enough for it to be felt. "Makes t'ings interestin'." Logan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. 

"Well… I suppose I can't deny that." He didn't want to think too much about how close Remy was, and what it might mean. He knew Remy liked being close to people – that was all it was, nothing more. Not that it mattered either way, because Remy was a _ghost_ and Logan didn't want to go down that road because he knew he wouldn't like what he found at the end. "So are you gonna insist I go out tonight, or are you gonna leave me in peace?" 

"Considerin' you got de social skills o' a rock, Remy t'inks it's safer fo' you to stay inside, non?" Remy teased, reaching for the remote control for the TV. "An' dere's always porn on TV to watch." Logan hurriedly snatched the remote from him. 

"No way in hell." He said quickly, holding the remote out of reach as Remy made to grab it back. "Do you know how expensive that is in a place like this?" His quick grin made Remy laugh, and forget about his attempt to get the remote back. 

"Alrigh', so we find somet'in' else to watch." Remy shrugged, practically climbing onto Logan as he took up the challenge to get the remote control back into his possession once more. Logan tried to wriggle away, but Remy refused to let him get too far. "Dere's plenty o' time fo' you to experience Nawlins at nigh' some ot'er time." 

"I guess there is, yeah." He relented, and let Remy have the damn remote. The Cajun grinned and flopped back onto the bed, switching on the TV immediately. Logan held back a sigh, missing their closeness already. After a moment, Remy turned to him and raised an eyebrow. 

"You jus' gon' stand dere all nigh'? Or are you gon' get dressed an' join Remy?" The slow, sly grin spread onto his face once more, and those fantastic eyes travelled up and down the length of Logan's body. "Or don' get dressed, Remy's happy wit' eit'er." Fighting off the urge to blush under that gaze, Logan quickly grabbed some boxers from his bag, and darted into the bathroom to put them on – he could have easily slipped them on underneath the towel, but he wanted to escape that leering gaze before he embarrassed himself. 

When he emerged, he tossed the towel onto the bathroom floor and dropped onto the bed beside Remy, who immediately shuffled over until they were pressed right against each other, and he dropped his head onto Logan's shoulder. Whilst Logan had been gone, he'd found a movie on one of the channels, a comedy by the sound of it, and Logan settled down happily, sliding an arm around Remy's shoulders. Within a few minutes, Remy had stretched himself out half on top of Logan, one arm draped over his abdomen, one leg crossed over one of Logan's. 

Logan didn't mind at all. 

\-- 

He woke up six hours later, still cradling Remy close. At some point during the night, Remy had retrieved his book without disturbing him, and he looked up from the pages when Logan shifted a little as he yawned. 

"Mornin' princess." Remy grinned, marking the page and closing the book. "Sleepin' Beauty arises from her slumber." 

"If I wasn't so comfortable, I'd throw you off the damn bed." Logan grumbled, his arm tightening around Remy just in case the Cajun dared to move. 

"Ah, a shame you didn' need a handsome Prince Charmin' to kiss you, eh?" Remy laughed, tossing the book down onto the bedside table and cuddling closer with a content sigh. Logan raised an eyebrow. 

"Y'know if you want to kiss me that bad you don't need an excuse." He murmured, wondering how Remy would react to that. With a gentle laugh, Remy lifted his head until their eyes met. 

"Oh, don' worry cher… Remy don' hide behind excuses." He smiled. "If Remy wants to kiss someone, an' he knows dey want him to, den he'll jus' do it." As if to prove a point, he leant in a little and kissed the corner of Logan's mouth – and a slight shiver travelled down the length of Logan's spine at the slight touch. "… Bet dat's de most action you've had in mont's, eh?" 

"You are _such_ an ass." Logan groaned, twisting out from under Remy and dumping him sideways onto the bed as he stood up. Remy laughed, sitting up a little as Logan rummaged in his bag for some clothes. 

"But you wouldn' have Remy any ot'er way, would you?" He grinned as Logan rolled his eyes, and then he stood and shook his head when Logan pulled out a plaid shirt. "Non, non. Put de plaid down, Logan. If yo' gon' go see Papa, you gotta make de righ' impression." He took the shirt from Logan and set it aside, and instead pulled out a dark grey button-up. "Wear dis one." 

"Right, whatever you say…" Logan smiled, taking it from him and pulling it on. "Guess you're the expert here." 

"Oui." Remy grinned, selecting a simple pair of black jeans to go with the shirt. "You gotta dress smart fo' Papa, gotta look like you know what yo' doin' an' who yo' talkin' to. Ain' gon' get far dressin' like a hick." As Logan pulled the jeans on, Remy circled him, inspecting him from head to toe. "An' black an' grey are neutral colours. Remy would o' preferred fo' you to wear purple, but dat ain' a colour you got much o'." 

"Yeah, I've noticed you all seem to like that colour… what's that about, anyway?" He attempted to sort out his hair whilst Remy continued to inspect him, for once not feeling awkward or uncomfortable or even embarrassed under his gaze. 

"It's de family colour, Logan." Remy told him, gesturing to the purple shirt he wore. "Purple, an' black an' white, sometimes silver, to go wit' it. We don' always wear it, but it's a common sigh' among de LeBeau family." He shrugged. "Goes back generations." 

"Fair enough." Logan smiled, finally managing to get his hair to co-operate somewhat. Remy stepped back, and then nodded. 

"You'll do." He grinned. "So, you ready to meet de man who taught Remy everyt'in' he knows?" 

"No, but I wasn't exactly ready to meet you, either, and that's worked out okay." Logan smiled again, fondly, and when Remy stepped forward he opened his arms out for him. "Are _you_ ready?" 

"Oui. T'ough it's gon' be hard to see dem again, especially wit' what yo' gon' tell dem." He sighed a little. "But dey need to hear it. It's up to dem if dey want to do anyt'in' 'bout it."

"She'll be jailed for it, Remy. You know that, right?" He pulled back, wanting to look into his eyes, knowing he'd be able to tell if Remy was masking what he really felt. 

"Marius will pull some strings, make sure she don' suffer too hard a sentence, or find a way to get her out early. But oui… Remy knows. Maybe five years ago Remy would o' said to fo'get 'bout de letter an' pretend it don' exist, but… not now." He shook his head with a slight sigh. "Remy still cares 'bout her, o' course, an' he wouldn' want her to get hurt fo' dis, but… in a way it's de best t'ing fo' her. You didn' see her, Logan. She was destroyin' herself inside over dis, she t'inks it's all she deserves. Maybe if she pays fo' what she did, it'll ease some o' dat guilt, knowin' she's bein' punished." 

"Well… as long as you're sure this is what you want me to do." He pulled him close again for a final embrace, pressing his lips to his forehead gently. Remy smiled, and gave a nod. "Right… then I guess you should lead the way to your house." He made sure he had everything he needed with him, and then he followed Remy out of the hotel room and to the streets below. 

Unlike the day before, where the pace was casual and Remy would stop to point out a building or a landmark every few minutes, this time Remy walked with a purpose, and Logan had to stride to keep up with him. Logan could tell from the neighbourhood that they were getting close to where Remy had grown up – no seedy bars or strip clubs here, only gorgeous buildings and expensive-looking stores, with expensive and flashy cars parked in driveways. 

Remy came to a stop outside a particularly impressive house, at least three stories high and bigger than both of the houses Logan had lived in _combined_. The long driveway was blocked from public access by a set of tall iron gates, with an intercom system set into the wall beside them, no doubt to call up to the house and ask for permission to enter. Logan stepped up to it, and then turned to Remy for guidance. 

"Press dis button here," he gestured to one of the buttons on the keypad, "an' when Francis answers, you jus' say who you are an' dat you would like to speak wit' Monsieur LeBeau." 

"But aren't there like… at least three guys in this place who could answer to that?" Logan raised an eyebrow, his finger hovering over the button. Remy laughed. 

"Oui, but if anyone calls askin' fo' Mikael or Henri, dey don' ask fo' Monsieur LeBeau." He nodded at the intercom. "Go on. Yo' on camera, by de way, so dey migh' get suspicious if you don' call up soon." Logan quickly looked around for the cameras, but he couldn't see them. "Trust Remy, Logan. Dey're dere." Logan took a deep breath, and he pressed the button. After a moment, a voice answered. 

_"Oui? May I help you?"_  

"Uh…" Logan glanced once more at Remy, who gave him a thumbs-up. "My name's Logan Howlett. I'd like to speak with Monsieur LeBeau." He felt like he'd butchered the smooth pronunciation of the French word. "Please." He quickly added, remembering that good manners always went further. There was a pause, and then the voice spoke again. 

_"An' what is yo' business? Monsieur LeBeau is a very busy man, an' yo' name is not down on de list o' scheduled appointments."_ Logan sent another glance at Remy, this one uncertain. 

"Tell him de trut', Logan. Tell him you have important info'mation 'bout Remy." Logan nodded a little, and took another deep breath. 

"I… I have some important information that he might be interested in." He paused, knowing there would be no going back from here. "It's about his son. It's about Remy LeBeau." A long moment of silence followed, and Logan was about to ask Remy what he should do when the gates buzzed, and swung open. Cautious and fighting off nerves, Logan stepped through, and made his way up the long driveway to the front door. 

The door opened as he lifted a hand to knock, and Logan got his first glimpse of Francis – from the front, at least. He was a handsome man, but not especially unique, and he looked more like a banker than a butler, although the suit was of higher quality than Logan saw on most bankers. 

"You understand dat Remy was precious to us all, I hope?" He looked and sounded suspicious, though Logan couldn't blame him for that. "If dis is some sort o' trick-," 

"I assure you, it isn't. I'm very serious about this." Logan cut in, firmly but still respectfully. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't." Francis didn't seem entirely convinced, and Logan hurriedly tried to think of something to say to convince him that he wasn't a hack. He gave a subtle glance at Remy as the Cajun beside him gasped, looking over Francis' shoulder. Logan followed his gaze. 

"Mikael." Remy breathed out softly. It hit Logan that this was almost certainly the first time Remy had seen his family in years, although he didn't know exactly how long it had been since he started wandering. 

"It's okay, Francis. I'll take it from here." Mikael put a hand on Francis' shoulder and gave him a soft, gentle smile, and Francis gave him a nod and turned, disappearing off into the house. Logan felt himself straightening up a little as though presented with royalty, almost as if he was ashamed to even slouch in Mikael's presence. He was tall, possibly taller than Remy though it was difficult to judge from here, and he kept his pale blond hair long. Logan briefly wondered if it was another family tradition, since all of them seemed to have an aversion to haircuts. "You said dat you have news 'bout Remy. Is dis true?" 

"I… y-yeah." Logan stammered, and then he caught himself and tried again. "Yes, I do. I really think it's something one of you needs to hear, even if it's not Jean-Luc himself." He searched Mikael's green eyes for any sign of distrust or disbelief, anything that would tell him he was wasting his breath, but he saw only a faint glimmer of hope. 

"Remy was as much my son as he was Jean-Luc's. I hope you understand dat I am not a man to cross where my family is concerned, Mr Howlett. If you have come here to poke an' prod at a wounded man, den dere will be trouble fo' you." Mikael's voice never once changed from the soft, gentle tone, but Logan sensed the danger behind it. 

"I've come here only to try and help give you and your family some answers. I promise." He held up his hands as if in surrender, and Mikael studied him for a moment more before he gave a slight nod, and stepped back to allow him entrance into the house. "Thank you." 

"Don' t'ank me yet, Mr Howlett. Jean-Luc may yet t'row you out on yo' ass." Mikael gave him a smile that held a hint of amusement as he closed the door behind him. "I am de gentler half o' dis relationship. Keep dat in mind." 

"I will." Logan found himself smiling, and as Mikael led the way deeper into the house, he turned and glanced at Remy, who was watching Mikael with such an expression of adoration that it melted Logan's heart just a little. He tried to pay attention to the house as he followed Mikael through a series of hallways, wondering just how big this place was – he'd seen a number of photographs on the wall, including some of Remy. He'd try and get a better chance to look at them later, if he wasn't thrown out, as Mikael had said. 

Mikael finally came to a stop outside a set of double doors with beautiful wood panelling, and he hesitated for a moment. Giving Logan a gesture that told him to wait where he was, Mikael opened one door and poked his head into the room beyond. There was a brief conversation, spoken entirely in French, and Logan wished he'd paid more attention in school so he could know what was being said. Remy inched closer, slipping through the other door just enough to see into the room beyond, and Logan wanted to know what it was he was seeing. He was about to find out for himself, however – Mikael turned from the door, and then opened it fully, gesturing for Logan to step inside. 

It was an office furnished like something out of a Victorian manor, or at least that was Logan's first impression – the walls were lined with bookshelves in a deep, dark wood, the floor was covered with marble tiles and a plush rug in deep violet that matched the violet drapes over the window, and the desk that took up the centre spotlight of the room was a beautifully carved piece of solid wood. 

Jean-Luc was situated behind it, a magnificent figure even in the relaxed position as he sat back in his high-backed chair. Like Remy, he wore a violet shirt with a black waistcoat, his hair tied back into a sleek ponytail that draped over one shoulder – and Logan could see that it was tied with violet ribbon. Cool grey eyes studied him for a moment as Mikael crossed the room to circle around the desk, and then they shifted from him as Jean-Luc turned to accept a soft, sweet kiss from his husband. When they parted, Mikael stepped back and stood with one hand on the back of Jean-Luc's chair, and those steel eyes turned back to Logan. 

"Take a seat, Mr Howlett." Jean-Luc gestured to the chair set to one side of the desk, obviously intended for visitors. Remy circled the room slowly his fingers tracing the spines of the books on the shelves, and he turned to give Logan a slight nod as if to say it was okay to do so. Feeling a little nervous under the cool gaze, Logan pulled the chair over a little and took a seat. 

"Call me Logan, please. Mr Howlett is too… formal." He shrugged. "Okay, look… I know this is an incredibly difficult subject for you, and I know you probably already think I'm some sort of hack or someone put me up to this and you think it's a trick, but… but I'm telling you the truth. I know who killed your son." He wasn't quite sure what kind of reaction he was expecting, but he definitely hadn't been expecting the quiet calm his statement was met with.

"Dat's a strong an' dangerous claim to make, Logan." Jean-Luc spoke smoothly, his tone unchanged from before. He also spoke quietly, as though he had no need to raise his voice – Logan got the feeling he never needed to, because people always listened when he spoke. "If yo' so certain, den I hope you have proof."

"I… I do." He briefly glanced again at Remy, who hovered by the desk, watching his father. "Well, I guess… enough of it to be able to get more, or to… question someone." Jean-Luc didn't respond for a while, and Mikael, too, remained silent. Logan knew they didn't believe him. 

"Fo'give me fo' askin', but you can surely understand our curiosity." Jean-Luc sat forward, clasping his hands on top of the desk in front of him. "But how do you know 'bout my son? Yo' not a friend o' his, because I don' recognise you, an' I knew all o' Remy's friends. An' why now? It's been five years, an' even de police have given up hope o' findin' de trut' behind it." 

"Okay, I'll start from the top. I'm an author, and one of the genres my books fall into is Crime, and so… I do research, look for cases that are similar to the ones I write about, so I can make them as accurate as possible. Sometimes I stumble across cases like your son's, and… it's not the first time I've helped to solve a case. Generally I leave anonymous leads because I don't want my name attached to these things, but… I found Remy's case, and I wanted to help." It sounded unlikely, and Logan wished he could tell them the truth – but that was even more unbelievable.

"Why? He's jus' a stranger to you, non? Why Remy, an' why not someone else?" Jean-Luc definitely didn't sound convinced. "An' how is it dat you could find de answers dat de police couldn', eh?"

"Well, I-," 

"De more you speak, de less I believe you, Logan." Jean-Luc cut in sharply. "See I have dis natural talent fo' knowin' when someone is lyin' to me, or holdin' back somet'in' important, an' dat's what I'm getting from you righ' now." He sat back in his chair once more, waving a hand casually. "So eit'er you tell me de trut', an' de whole trut', or I have you thrown out o' dis fair city." Logan didn't even question if he could actually do that – after all, wasn't the LeBeau family one of the most influential in New Orleans? He glanced quickly and subtly at Remy, hoping for a sign of what to do now. 

"Tell him de trut' Logan." Remy murmured, moving around to crouch beside his chair. "Yo' gon' have to. Remy knows it sounds stupid, an' you probably t'ink it will only make t'ings worse, but… Papa will believe you." Remy smile, glancing across the desk at his father. "When Remy was still hangin' around here, Papa could almost sense he was dere. He couldn' see him, couldn' hear him, but… dere was somet'in'." Logan wished he could respond, ask him exactly how the hell he was going to tell Jean-Luc that he had been living with his dead son for the past few months, but of course that wasn't an option. He wasn't sure about the idea of revealing information that could lead to him being locked away under the label of 'insane', but he knew Remy was right. He was going to have to tell Jean-Luc everything.

"Okay… okay, you're right. I've been lying, or… holding back the whole truth, if you will. But not about the fact I know who killed your son, Jean-Luc. That's the truth, and I can prove it to you. But… the reason I didn't tell you the truth about how I know about Remy and about what happened to him… well it's because I didn't think you'd believe me. I still don't think you'll believe me, because hell I wouldn't believe it if someone told me what I'm about to tell you. I'd laugh in their face and call them crazy, and that's pretty much what I'm expecting from you, but I assure you I'm not crazy… well, I might be, but I'm also being honest." Logan took a deep breath, waiting for some kind of reaction from the two men opposite him. After a moment, Jean-Luc gave a slight nod, and waved a hand in a simple gesture. 

"Go on." 

"I _am_ a friend of your son's. No, you never met me, and I was never in New Orleans before yesterday, but… I know Remy, and it's through him that I know about what happened to him." He waited for the words to sink in, but he didn't give either of them a chance to respond. "It sounds crazy, like I said, but… but I can see ghosts, I can talk to them. I've pretty much been living with Remy for the past few months, and it's only been recently that I've looked into his murder, and found the truth. With his help, of course. I needed him to tell me some of the details so I could trace it back, find leads and suspects and all that cop stuff you see in the TV shows. With less drama, of course." When neither of them spoke, Logan sighed. "I'm not a fake. I'm not some crystal-ball psychic who tricks people into thinking they're talking to dead loved ones with some fancy equipment and a bit of quick research. I've been able to communicate with ghosts since I was a kid and I never questioned why, but I've been helping them my whole life and now it's Remy's turn to be helped. That's why I'm here."

"So…" Jean-Luc sat forward again, his brows knitted into a slight frown as he thought carefully over his words. "Yo' tellin' me dat my son, my _murdered_ son, has been playin' house wit' you fo' mont's whilst you try to solve his murder, an' now you have come here to tell me dat you know who did it?" 

"I know how insane it sounds, but-," 

"Prove it." Jean-Luc cut in smoothly, stopping Logan in his tracks. 

"What?" 

"Prove it." He repeated. "Dis is de oldest trick in de book, I know, but dere's somet'in' dat I can ask you dat only Remy, Mikael an' myself know de answer to. It's not recorded anywhere, an' de only ot'er people who might know are dead an' gone, an' no one spoke a word o' it. So I'm gon' ask you, an' if you can talk to de dead as you say you can, den you can ask Remy, non?" Mikael stepped closer, and his hand shifted from the chair to Jean-Luc's shoulder. 

"Mon amour, are you sure you wanna do dis?" He murmured softly, and Jean-Luc reached up to gently touch the hand on his shoulder.

"Oui. Trust me, Mika." He turned his gaze back to Logan. "What was de name o' Remy's mot'er?" Logan hadn't been expecting that. Of course, there had been no name listed when he'd researched Remy online, and nothing he'd read had ever mentioned her – and he'd never asked, either. 

"I…" Logan hesitated, and then turned to where Remy still crouched beside his chair, his eyes asking the question for him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw both Mikael and Jean-Luc straighten up, their eyes following his gaze to the empty space he knew they'd see beside the chair.

"Devin." Remy told him. "Papa told Remy her name was Devin, but he didn' ever tell Remy her full name, so dat's all he knows." He smiled. "Papa will believe you after dis, you'll see." Logan gave a slight nod, and then he turned back to Jean-Luc. 

"Her name was Devin. Remy doesn't know her surname, because you never told him." As Logan watched, both men's expressions went from cautious and uncertain to absolute disbelief and shock – and then a slight smile tugged at the corners of Jean-Luc's mouth. 

"Is he… is he here…?" Logan smiled back at him now, and he held out a hand to Remy, who took it gently. 

"Yes. He's here." Logan told him, and at a nod, Remy reached forward and picked up a letter-opener that had been sitting on top of the desk. Jean-Luc's eyes followed the movement of the object as it lifted into the air, and then his own hand reached for Mikael's, and held it tightly. "He's right here." 

"Papa…" Remy whispered, clutching the letter-opener and wishing he could be visible to them both. Tears pricked at his eyes as they stared directly at him, not seeing him but knowing, now, that he was there – if he couldn't be visible, at least he had this. After a moment, Jean-Luc drew in a deep, shaky breath, and turned his attention back to Logan. 

"Alrigh', Logan. I t'ink we're ready to hear what you've got to say."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan tells Jean-Luc about Belladonna's letter, and the LeBeau family gets to say their goodbyes.

Logan fidgeted in his chair, not knowing quite how to begin now he was faced with the opportunity to tell them everything he knew. Remy was crouched at his side once more, both hands wrapped around one of his, and for a moment Logan simply sat there and held on tight, feeling himself relaxing slightly as the seconds past. 

"I don't really know where to begin…" He admitted, giving Jean-Luc and Mikael a rather sheepish look. To his surprise, Jean-Luc smiled. 

"Don' worry. I get de feelin' you don' meet many people who believe you, eh?" He laughed softly, his eyes darting once to the spot in which Remy crouched, looking at him but not seeing him. "You said dat you know who killed Remy, an' dat you have proof. Why don' you start dere?" Logan nodded, straightening up a little. 

"Right, yes. Well… I'm sure you must have some idea as to who was behind it, or how it happened, and I'm also sure you're not far off target, but… it might come as a shock to you, because another thing I'm sure of is that it's not who you think it is." He sighed, and Remy gave his hand a squeeze. "I know all about the feud between you and the Boudreaux family." 

"Dat's hardly surprisin', since it's quite a famous feud." Mikael cut in, still a little cautious. Logan couldn't fault him for that. 

"That's why it didn't take much digging to find it out." Logan agreed. "I also know how the press made it out to seem like Remy and Julien were following in their fathers' footsteps by butting heads over anything and everything. I know what happened to Julien, and I know about the sequence of events that led from it. A lot of this I found out through research, but Remy filled in the gaps for me when he was ready to talk." Jean-Luc shook his head a little, and sighed. 

"Remy should never have got involved wit' dat girl." He murmured. Logan raised his eyebrows, surprised. 

"So you knew about Remy and Belladonna?" Now it was Mikael's turn to smile. 

"Oui. Remy never hid anyt'in' from us." He told Logan, taking Jean-Luc's hand once more, knowing his husband needed the physical connection to keep his strength. 

"He was a lil' worried 'bout how we'd react, but… dat's jus' who Remy was." Jean-Luc spoke so fondly, and Logan could feel Remy's fingers tightening around his hand. A quick glance, and he knew Remy was close to tears. "Remy was a friend to anyone who gave him a smile, or a drink, an' Belladonna gave him bot'." He smiled, a smile as fond as his voice. "Dey were special, bot' o' dem. Dey didn' care dat dey were from feudin' families, dey jus' wanted to have fun an' enjoy life." 

"Remy once told us dat Belladonna liked to t'ink o' dem as Romeo an' Juliet reborn." Mikael added, smiling with him. "But dey weren' dat serious, not at de time. Who knows what it migh' have been, t'ough, if t'ings had been different." 

"But Julien… he was jus' like his papa, an' meaner still. He found out dat his sister was sharin' kisses and sharin' beds wit' de young man he considered his worst enemy, an' he wasn' happy." Jean-Luc sighed again, dragging a hand through his hair, loosening some of it from its ponytail. 

"So he challenged Remy in some sort of modern-day duel?" Logan gave them a smile, and Jean-Luc actually chuckled a little. 

"You _have_ done yo' research. Oui, duels were a common t'ing between de families in de past, t'ough dey faded out over time an' replaced wit' somet'in' a lil' less dramatic an' dangerous. But Julien… he liked de idea o' somet'in' a bit dangerous, so he arranged fo' de race. Openly challenged Remy – if Remy won, den Julien would let dem be, an' stay out o' t'ings. If Remy lost… well, den he could never see Belladonna again, an' Marius would get involved." Remy tensed a little at Logan's side, and he turned to look at him, bringing his other hand over to cover Remy's. 

"He would never have let us be. He was lyin', tryin' to lure Remy in, but Remy knew de trut'. Julien couldn' be trusted, but Remy couldn' say no…" 

"Julien made the terms so Remy couldn't refuse his challenge." Logan murmured, speaking more to himself and Remy than the two men across the desk. 

"When Remy told us, we tried to encourage him to ignore Julien, but… he said he wasn' doin' it fo' de family, or fo' himself. He said he could learn to live wit'out seein' her again, t'ough dey'd always find a way around it, an' dat wasn' de problem, but… he knew Marius would punish dat girl somet'in' rotten, an' dat didn' sit righ' wit' him." Jean-Luc glanced once more at the spot Remy had been standing before, though of course his gaze passed right over him, as he no longer stood upright beside the chair. 

"So he accepted the challenge for her?" Logan gave Remy's hand a gentle squeeze, wishing he could pull him into his lap and hold him, but knowing that would look more than a little bizarre. 

"Oui." Now tears shone in Jean-Luc's eyes, though he was refusing to shed them. "Dat's my Remy." The words were spoken so softly, so tenderly and so fondly, and Logan heard the grief behind them. It was almost enough to bring _him_ to tears. 

"So, we're righ' in assumin' dere's a connection between what happened to Julien an' what happened to Remy?" Mikael had knelt beside Jean-Luc's chair, and held his hand close to his lips, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. This had definitely been a close, loving family, and it made Logan's heart ache for them. "We already suspected de Boudreaux family, 'cause we'd be stupid not to, but we knew dere was no proof…" 

"That's where you're wrong." Logan gave them a grim smile, and he reached into his bag and produced the little box Belladonna had set on Remy's grave. "I've got your proof." Remy was torn between circling around the desk to perch beside his father, and staying at Logan's side. The only thing keeping him here, with his hands in Logan's, was the knowledge that Logan could see and feel and hear him. He couldn't comfort his father in the same way he could support Logan. But he so desperately wanted to go to them, to hold them and reassure them, and knowing he couldn't was fiercely painful. 

"Dat box… is yo' proof?" Jean-Luc leant forward when Logan set the box down on the desk in front of him. "Where did you get it?" 

"It was placed upon Remy's…" He trailed off, finding it oddly difficult to say the next word. "Remy's grave. Yesterday." He added quickly. "Before then, I doubt anyone could have found proof. But it's there…" Jean-Luc pulled his hand from Mikael's very carefully as he reached for the box, hesitating for a moment before turning the key and opening it. 

When his eyes widened a fraction, Logan knew he recognised the contents within. 

"Dis can' be…" He murmured, his fingers pulling the letter from the top and clutching it for a moment, clearly delaying the moment he'd have to open it and read what it said. "I knew it was by de hands o' de Boudreaux family, but I always suspected Marius…" 

"So did I. All my research and my detective work was aiming for the end result of putting Marius away for Remy's murder. But then… well, Remy led me to this box, and everything got thrown out of the window." He sat back, reaching for Remy once more as Jean-Luc opened the letter. There was a tense silence in the room as both men read Belladonna's words, and Logan knew when they'd reached the end – Mikael stood and turned away from them, one hand balled into a fist, the other pressed against his mouth, and Jean-Luc's hands tightened around the letter, shaking slightly as though he had to restrain himself from crumpling it or tearing it into little pieces. 

"Belladonna." He breathed out at last, setting the letter down before dropping his face into his hands. "Remy never once hurt her. Remy was only ever sweet to her, an' kind, an' a gentleman, an' she… she has to pay fo' dis." When he lifted his head, the tears had fallen, shimmering tracks cutting their way down smooth, sharp cheekbones. Remy stood and took a step forward, reaching for his father but hesitating at the last moment, knowing it was pointless. Though Jean-Luc would feel the touch, it would not be much comfort. But oh how he wished he could hold him now, how he wished they could see him, and hear him, and if nothing else have their final goodbyes to him. 

He wanted it so, _so_ badly. 

When Jean-Luc drew in a sharp breath, one hand reaching to tug on Mikael's sleeve, Logan was momentarily confused – but then he realised Jean-Luc's eyes were fixed on where Remy now stood, and this time he wasn't looking but not seeing. This time he was looking _right_ at Remy – and he could _see_ him. 

"Remy…" He pushed up from his chair, and Mikael turned, eyes widening as he, too, saw the faintly shimmering image of their son standing beside Logan's chair. It wasn't a steady image, but he was there, looking as surprised as they felt. "Remy, mon fils, is dat really you…?" Remy hesitated a moment longer, still amazed that they could see him, and then he walked straight through the desk and into his father's waiting arms. 

Logan stood, too, when Jean-Luc's arms closed around Remy and held him tight, still trying to get his head around what was happening. Mikael stepped up behind Remy and was immediately brought into their embrace, all three of them holding on so tightly as if afraid Remy would disappear again if they let go. Which, of course, was entirely possible. 

He'd heard of ghosts being visible to ordinary people for brief moments, no more than a few seconds – after all, how else could suspected sightings be explained when there was no logical reasoning behind them? He knew some ghosts could make themselves appear on film, in photographs. He'd never once known a ghost, or heard of one, who could make themselves visible to ordinary people like this. 

"How is dis possible?" Jean-Luc pulled away, holding Remy at arm's length to look him over, still amazed that he was there, that he could see him and touch him and hold him. "How can we see you?" 

"R-Remy… Remy jus'… wanted it so bad…" His hands were trembling as he bought them up to gently touch his father's face, and when he blinked tears escaped and rolled away to freedom down his cheeks. "You can really see me, Papa?" 

"I can, Remy… I can." He laughed a little, pulling him close for another hug. "I don' know how, but I can. I ain' gon' question it." When Jean-Luc pressed his lips to Remy's forehead, Logan smiled. This was everything Remy needed, even if saying goodbye would be very difficult. Perhaps it was exactly what Jean-Luc and Mikael needed, too – a chance to say goodbye, a chance they didn't have before. 

"T'ank you, Logan." Mikael turned to him now, circling around the desk to take his hands. "T'ank you fo' brinin' him home, an' fo' givin' us de answer we t'ought we'd never get." 

"It's… it's what I do." Logan shrugged, not quite sure how else to respond. "Besides, you don't have to thank me. I'm just glad I could do this for you all." Mikael stepped back when Remy passed through the desk once more, seeking out an embrace from Mikael. Jean-Luc reached over the desk, one hand extended to Logan, who took it. 

"I doubted you when you firs' walked in here, Logan, but now to have Remy here, to see him an' hear his voice an' be able to hold him again… dere's not even a question o' doubt now." He shook his head, still in obvious disbelief. "Dis is incredible. Did you know dat he could do dis…?" 

"No, I… I'm as surprised as you are." He smiled, watching as Mikael stroked long fingers through Remy's hair in a soothing motion, holding him close. "But it's wonderful. I don't know how he did it, but I'm glad he did." 

"I can' believe it was Belle who did it…" Jean-Luc sighed, glancing at the letter still laid out on his desk. "Dey gon' pay fo' dis." Logan hadn't missed the subtle shift in Jean-Luc's tone of voice – from soft grief to hard, fierce anger. Apparently, neither had Remy. 

"Non, Papa." He pulled back from Mikael and turned to his father, his expression set in determination. "Don' be like dat family. Don' take dis into yo' own hands. If you do, den dis jus' becomes a neverendin' cycle, an' who knows what dey'll do next, who dey'll target." He stepped forward, reaching out to take his father's hand. "Dey'll never go after you, but dey migh' arrange fo' an accident to happen to Henri, or Mikael. No mo' deat', Papa. No mo' fightin'." Jean-Luc breathed out something in French that Logan couldn't quite catch, and then he closed his other hand over Remy's. 

"Dat's my Remy, always supportin' peace, friends wit' anyone and everyone." He smiled gently, and then nodded. "Alrigh', mon fils. I'll give de letter to de police, an' we'll do dis de righ' way. If dat's what you want." 

"It is, Papa." Remy smiled back at him. "An' dere's somet'in' else dat Remy wants you to do…" When Jean-Luc merely raised an eyebrow in question, Remy went on. "Remy wants you to have anot'er kid. Eit'er one o' yo' own, or adopt one who needs a good home an' a good, kind family." 

"Remy-," 

"You need dis, Papa. You an' Mikael bot'. Remy knows Henri is gettin' married, an' maybe he'll have a kid one day, but Remy also knows dat yo' life feels empty righ' now. So he wants you to have anot'er kid, an' give yo'selves somet'in' mo' to live fo'." He turned to Mikael, and held out his other hand for the other man to take. "An' if you do, Remy fully expects you to name it after him, regardless o' gender." He grinned now, and Jean-Luc actually laughed very softly. "Dis family will fall apart wit'out a Remy, eh?" 

"It did, yes." Mikael admitted, and in one movement both men stepped closer and encased Remy in another embrace. 

"Be happy again fo' Remy, s'il vous plait." He murmured softly, kissing Mikael's cheek, and then his father's. "Dat's all he wants fo' you." 

"We'll try. Dat I promise." Jean-Luc stroked hair out of Remy's face, and then sighed softly. "I guess dis is goodbye, den?" Remy nodded, blinking back tears once more. "At least we have dis." They embraced for a final time, and Logan looked away so this final moment was a little more private. He also didn't want Remy to see the tears in his own eyes, because that certainly wouldn't help anyone. 

When he turned back around, Remy was gone. 

"Has he… has he gone?" Mikael glanced around the room, and then met Logan's eyes. Of course – whilst Remy was usually invisible to them, they knew Logan could see him regardless. 

"Yeah… yeah he's gone." Logan nodded. "He'll be around somewhere. He does this sometimes when he wants to be alone… he'll go off and hide where I won't find him, and he'll come back when he's ready." Jean-Luc wiped at his eyes with one sleeve, and sighed heavily. 

"I wish he could stay fo'ever, an' be back wit' us here… but I know dat's not gon' happen. Seein' him again, at least to say a proper goodbye… dat was enough." He nodded slowly, and then turned to face Logan. "So, Logan… let me ask you one mo' t'ing…" 

"Sure, what is it?" 

"How long have you been in love wit' my son?" The question stunned Logan into complete silence, and he simply stared open-mouthed at Jean-Luc for a few moments before he found his voice. Before he could answer, however, Jean-Luc went on. "It's been written all over yo' face since de moment we could see him. De way you look at him, Logan… dat's de same way Mikael an' I look at each ot'er." 

"I…" Logan almost went to deny it, but he knew it was pointless. "A while." He admitted, feeling his cheeks burn very slightly. 

"Does he know?" 

"No!" Logan answered quickly. "No… he doesn't. I haven't told him, and I don't see the point." He sighed. 

"Because he is a ghost?" Jean-Luc smiled a little. "Den all de mo' reason, Logan. If he's not gon' be here wit' us much longer… better to tell him dan regret keepin' it to yo'self, non?" 

"Well… I… I guess…" Logan sighed again, and Jean-Luc put a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"Tell him, Logan. Beyond family, dere weren' many people who truly loved dat boy. Dey liked him well enough, an' enjoyed his company, but no one ever really loved him. Most folks were mo' interested in a physical relationship dan an emotional one." He smiled again. "Give him somet'in' to smile 'bout, eh?" 

"Yeah… I'll… I'll consider it." Logan smiled back at him. "Thanks." 

"Ain' not'in' you gotta t'ank us fo' Logan. You gave us a chance to see our boy one mo' time." He stepped back, one arm snaking around Mikael's waist. "If he's still in de house, he'll be in his room. Next floor up, turn righ' at de top o' de stairs, an' den it's de second door on de left." 

"Right, thanks…" He nodded, and hesitated at the door. "One more thing… you were so quick to believe me, when I could have been lying through my teeth, just tricking you. Why?" 

"A number o' reasons, really." Jean-Luc shrugged. "But mainly 'cause dis family is very open-minded 'bout t'ings like dis. Anyt'in' is possible, an' if dere's no solid proof dat it don' exist, we're ready to believe in it if it comes our way." 

"We were all raised Cat'olic, but fo' all we know dere are a million gods out dere, or dere migh' be none. De same goes wit' life after deat'." Mikael added. 

"Plus, I can tell when someone's lyin', an' once you started talkin', I knew you were tellin' us de trut'." Jean-Luc smiled again. "An' den you had some pretty convincin' proof." Logan laughed a little at that. 

"Yeah… guess you could say that." He opened the door, and smiled back at them. "I'm glad I could bring you some answers, and some closure. I hope everything works out for you and your family." 

"T'ank you, Logan. If yo' ever in Nawlins, yo' welcome here." Logan nodded at that, touched that Jean-Luc would happily welcome him back even though he was still a complete stranger. When he made his way up to the next floor as Jean-Luc had instructed, he smiled to himself. Remy had come from a very good family indeed. He passed by a glass cabinet of the type used to display trophies or ornaments, and he stopped when Remy's name jumped out at him from one side. He smiled as he glanced over the various trophies and framed certificates inside, all labelled with Remy's name – a variety of things, including two trophies that listed Remy as being the Point Guard in a school basketball team, and later as the Center, too. Well, he hadn't known that about the Cajun. 

He hesitated outside the second door on the left, listening for a moment to see if he could tell whether Remy was in there or not. He knew he had the right room, at least – stuck on the door was a sign obviously created by young hands, with the words 'Remy Etienne LeBeau's room' scrawled upon it in surprisingly elegant handwriting, though it was still obviously written by a child's hand. On his way down the hall he'd passed by a door with a similar sign upon it, claiming to be Henri's room. Whereas Henri's sign had been in shades of blue and green, Remy's was a vibrant pink. 

He knocked quietly, just in case, and then he opened the door. Even if Remy wasn't inside, he wanted to take a look. His eyes were immediately assaulted by an explosion of pink – pink curtains to match the pink rugs on the floor, and the bedsheets were a shockingly bright combination of neon pink and black. The second thing Logan noticed was how the room looked as though it was still used often. Although there were no clothes littering the floor, there was still a book on the bedside table, a long coat draped over the back of a chair as if it had only recently been removed, and the sheets were ever so slightly pulled back as though someone had forgotten to straighten them out after getting out of bed that morning. 

Remy was stood by the window, hands clutching a photo frame. Very carefully, Logan closed the door and crossed the room to him, and he laid a hand on his arm. Remy didn't look at him, but his hands tightened around the frame. 

"Dey haven' touched a t'ing in here." He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not'in' has changed. Dis is exactly as Remy left it." He turned to Logan now, tears shining in his eyes. "Why, Logan? It ain' like Remy jus' went missin', an' dey didn' want to mess wit' his room in case he came back. Dey knew he was never comin' back!" 

"Maybe… maybe they wanted to keep it this way because they weren't ready to accept that." Logan said gently, his arm sliding around Remy's shoulders. "Maybe this is their way of keeping you alive." Remy trembled slightly, and Logan tugged him closer, wrapping both arms around him now. "What's that you got…?" Remy pulled back a little, and glanced down at the frame in his hands. Logan leant in a little to get a better look, and smiled – although he was barely more than ten, there was no mistaking Remy, standing with his arm around a younger Henri's shoulders, Jean-Luc and Mikael stood behind them. It was obviously some sort of family vacation photo. 

"Dis is de only photo Remy has o' him an' Henri when we were kids, where we're not on opposite sides o' de photo or glarin' at each ot'er…" Remy smiled a little. "It's also de firs' photo we ever took as a whole family, 'cause Papa an' Mikael had jus' got married." He looked up at Logan, and sighed. "You t'ink Remy could take dis? Dey have plenty o' copies o' dis… an' Remy knows he won't need it if he… if he moves on, but…" 

"I'm sure they'd want you to have it." Logan leant in and kissed his temple. "I didn't know you had freckles." He murmured with a slight laugh, and Remy grinned. He'd seen a faint ghost of them over his cheeks, of course, but they were more obvious in the photograph. 

"Still got 'em, t'ough dey're so faint now you can hardly see 'em…" He stared down at the photo once more, and then handed it to Logan. "Will you take dis fo' Remy? People might notice if dere was a photo frame jus' floatin' along beside you." 

"Right, yeah… I'll put it in my bag for you." Logan grinned, tucking the frame into his bag. "So… are you ready to leave, or do you want to stay here a bit longer?" Remy glanced around his room, and sighed. 

"Remy ain' been back here since it happened. He always avoided dis room." His hand found Logan's, seeking comfort and support. "Guess it's time to say goodbye fo' good, eh? Don' t'ink Remy will be back here again." 

"Maybe not." Logan gave his hand a squeeze. "C'mon, Rem. Let's get back to the hotel." 

\-- 

Logan sat on the bed across from Remy, playing cards spread between them. Determined to put Remy in a better mood after the visit to his family, Logan had suggested they play some cards and relax before they left for home the next day, which Remy had been all for. Of course, Logan was losing badly – Remy was incredibly skilled, although Logan suspected he was cheating, too. 

"Man, Logan… yo' bad at dis." He laughed, brushing hair out of his face. He'd rolled back his sleeves to his elbows, and the top few buttons of his shirt had been unbuttoned, along with the waistcoat. Logan also suspected he was playing badly because he was distracted by the casual state of undress Remy was in. 

"No, you're just cheating." Logan grumbled, throwing down his cards as he lost yet another hand. 

"Remy don' need to cheat." Remy grinned. "Yo' not good enough fo' dat." Logan scowled a little. 

"Ass." He smiled, though, when Remy simply grinned more and sent him a wink. He was reminded of his conversation with Jean-Luc, and he held back a sigh. Could he really tell Remy? 

"You wouldn' have Remy any ot'er way, righ'?" 

"No, I wouldn't." He watched Remy gather up the cards and shuffle them with practiced ease. "Not that I have a choice about that." He smirked, and Remy rolled his eyes. 

"Oh shut yo' face. You like Remy really." Logan fell silent, watching as he continued to shuffle the cards, and then he sighed softly. 

"I do." He murmured quietly. "Remy… there's something I want to tell you…" Jean-Luc was right, of course. He'd much rather tell Remy than regret keeping silent after he was gone. 

"You look mighty serious, mon cher." Remy set the cards to one side and inched closer across the bed, concern written on his face. "What's troublin' you?" 

"Just something your dad spoke to me about… I…" He sighed again, and when Remy took his hand, he held it tightly. "I don't know when it happened, or how, but… damn, this isn't easy." He took a deep breath, and tried again. "You're insufferable, and you drive me insane, but damnit I think I'm in love with you." For the first time since Logan had met him, Remy was speechless. He stared at Logan in surprise, silent for so long that Logan began to wonder if he'd made a mistake. "Remy, I'm so-," 

Remy cut him off with a kiss.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go home, and Logan's confession is... well received.

For a brief second, Logan was too stunned to do anything. Remy had kissed him before – on the cheek, of course, but all the same – and they could touch and hold hands so it wasn't as though he was surprised that Remy could, in fact, kiss him. No, it was more like he was simply surprised that Remy _wanted to_. He got over his surprise quickly, pulling him closer and returning his kiss before Remy got any ideas of pulling away. 

Unlike most kisses Logan had experienced throughout his life, which were often warm and wet, Remy's lips were cool, soft and dry – though pleasantly so. Logan had thought at first that it would only be a brief, gentle kiss, close-mouthed and sweet, but then Remy shifted closer and a tongue gently probed at Logan's lips. He parted them without hesitation, groaning softly as the kiss deepened. Long fingers threaded themselves into his hair, and Logan gently brought a hand up to cup the back of Remy's neck. 

He realised then that it was, in fact, kissing a ghost and that Remy might not have the same concept of needing air that he did, so he reluctantly pulled away, though he didn't release his hold on him in case he moved too far away. 

"I said the right thing, then?" He murmured, smiling a little. Remy grinned and leant back in to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

"You don' know how long Remy's waited to hear dat, cher." He nuzzled his cheek happily. "Especially from you." 

"Especially from me…?" Logan gently stroked his fingers through Remy's hair, finding the tie and pulling it free. "And why's that?" 

"Oh, Remy t'inks you know why." He grinned again, leaning into his hand very slightly. "Even yo' not dat stupid." Logan scowled a little – playfully – and gave Remy's hair a slight tug. 

"Hey. That's not very nice." 

"Desole." Remy smiled, leaning in once again to kiss him. Logan was amazed at how natural it felt, despite their slightly unnatural circumstances. He certainly wasn't going to complain. He pulled Remy down against him until they were sprawled back against the headboard of the bed, his arms locked around him. Remy nuzzled closer into him quite happily, and gave a soft, content sigh. "So Papa figured you out, eh?" 

"Apparently so." Logan laughed a little, fingers idly stroking through Remy's hair. "Apparently it was the way I looked at you." 

"Non, dat's jus' 'cause Remy's beautiful." Remy looked up at him with a cheeky little grin, and Logan rolled his eyes. "Don' you try to deny it, cher." 

"Wouldn't dream of it." He pressed his lips to Remy's forehead. "Doesn't stop me thinking you're a vain cocky little shit, though." He laughed when Remy swatted at him, and he tried to swat back – but of course Remy phased out of a corporeal form before he could touch him. "That's cheating!" 

"Oui. What you gon' do 'bout it, eh?" Remy grinned, wriggling away and jumping up off the bed. Logan scowled a little, and then he launched himself forward in an attempt to catch Remy by surprise. He knew it wouldn't work, of course, but it was still fun to watch the Cajun dart away with a laugh. He chased him around the room, Remy always managing to stay just out of reach, until he let Logan catch him. They tumbled back onto the bed, Remy pinned beneath him, Logan very slightly out of breath. "Now what?" Remy murmured, one hand reaching up to gently trace the line of Logan's jaw. 

Logan had no answer for him – no vocal one, at least. He leant down and brought their lips together, deepening the kiss the second Remy's lips parted. He gave a soft, barely audible moan as Remy's fingers slid into his hair and he felt the Cajun arch up into him. He groaned, his hips involuntarily rolling down, and a flush began to creep up his neck. Cool fingers slid up underneath his shirt, and Remy bucked up against him, moaning into the kiss. The sound alone was enough to send Logan's blood rushing south. 

If Remy's voice had that effect on him, then his hands were _sinful_. Cool fingertips traced up and down his spine, nails lightly scratching over his skin, and one hand slid around to ghost over his abdomen, his muscles twitching against Remy's touch. Logan broke the kiss, breathless, his face flushed, and trying to maintain control of his own body. 

Remy's grin said it all. 

"Shut up. Don't even say a damn thing." Logan murmured, dropping his head down against Remy's shoulder. "Fuck." 

"Damn, Logan… Remy knows he's good, but-," 

"Shut up. Shut yer damn mouth." He shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable and knowing it was no use. He was painfully aroused and all from a kiss and some innocent touching. "It's been a while, alright?" Remy laughed, his fingers stroking through Logan's hair again. 

"Remy will take dat as a compliment." He angled his head, and pressed a kiss to Logan's temple. "You want a hand wit' dat?" Logan felt his face burn hot, and he blindly reached up and clamped a hand over Remy's mouth. 

"Shut up." 

\-- 

Logan stepped out of the shower the next morning to find Remy perched on the bed, his eyes fixed on the TV. As he rubbed at his wet hair, he realised Remy was watching the news – and he let the towel drop around his shoulders when he finally registered what was showing on the screen. Quietly, he sat down beside Remy on the bed, and sought out his hand as he focused on what was being said. 

_"… Belladonna Boudreaux has been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Remy LeBeau, the eldest son of Jean-Luc LeBeau, with suspected ties to the ongoing family rivalry between LeBeau and Boudreaux. There is also speculation that the murder is related to the earlier accident which lead to the death of Julien Boudreaux, Belladonna's older brother…"_  

On the screen, two policemen were escorting Belladonna out of her house and towards the police car parked at the side of the street. Behind her, Marius Boudreaux was raving at another policeman, whilst still attempting to remain dignified in the public eye. Logan gave Remy's hand a slight squeeze.

"How do you feel?" Remy sighed, and switched the TV off. 

"How is Remy supposed to feel?" He shrugged. "She'll be alright. Marius won' let her rot in jail, not fo' long. He'll find a way to get her out. But… at de same time, Remy wants her to stay dere. He never did a t'ing to hurt her, an' she knew dat!" Logan released his hand and instead pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "He feels angry, an' hurt, but he's not happy dat his killer is bein' brought to justice." He sighed again. "He certainly doesn' feel like movin' on." He glanced at Logan. "But isn't dat what's supposed to happen?" 

"Maybe… maybe bringing your killer to justice wasn't what you needed…?" Logan suggested, leaning in to kiss his temple softly. "Maybe there's something else." 

"Remy got to say goodbye to his family, he got an answer fo' who killed him, an' he knows dey're payin' fo' it. What else could he need? What else is left?" Logan shook his head, wishing he had a definite answer for him. 

"I don't know, Remy, but… there's gotta be something left unfinished somewhere. Something you wanted to do, or wanted to see. Something you started but never got to finish. It could be anything." He took his hand again, and brought it to his lips. "But I'll help you. As long as it takes, Remy." He smiled now. "And besides… I quite like your company." 

"Dat so?" Remy grinned, pulling him close to kiss him. "You certainly changed yo' tune, den." 

"Well…" Logan laughed, kissing him again. "I think things have changed, and I'm quite enjoying those kisses…" He pulled back and raised an eyebrow. "So long as you don't start singing again." 

"Oh, hush. You liked Remy's singin'." 

"That's not the word I'd use." He stood up, hurriedly drying off his hair some more before he rummaged around in his bag for some clothes to travel in. "So what do you say we head back home, hm? Unless there's something else you want to do here?" 

"Non… home sounds good." Remy sprawled back on the bed, watching as Logan dressed – and he smiled at the reappearance of the plaid shirt. "Never change Logan. Never change." 

"Don't plan to." Logan smiled back over at him, shoving everything back into his bag and tidying away his laptop. "Come on then, Cajun. Let's go home." They shared a final sweet kiss at the door before Logan went down to check out, and once they settled into his truck, he dragged a hand through his hair and flashed a smile at Remy. "I'm thinking I need some breakfast. Got any suggestions?" 

"Well… Mikael's family owns a bakery not far from here." Remy grinned. "Remy's sure you could find somet'in' dere." 

"Great. Lead the way." Logan put the truck into drive, and awaited directions from his Cajun passenger. Half an hour later and they were on the road, the smell of delicious baked goods filling the truck. Logan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other clutching a pastry that he was in the process of devouring. "This is amazing." 

"Oui. Mika an' his family are de best. Mika makes dese lil cakes dat taste jus' like heaven…" Remy sighed, sliding down in his seat a little. "Remy wishes he could have one again, but… well, no matter how much a ghost wants _dat_ , it ain' ever gon' happen." Logan, feeling suddenly guilty about eating in front of him, shoved the remainder of the pastry into his mouth all at once. 

"So…" He spoke, pausing to swallow the last of the pastry. "Is there anything else you _can_ do if you want it enough? I mean… you've never been visible to others before." 

"Don' know, really." Remy shrugged. "He's tried befo'… but it never happened. Not until he went home. Not until he saw his Papa again." He paused, considering something. "Maybe it's somet'in' dat can be learned? Remy couldn' touch people at firs', after all. Maybe if he kept doin' it, he wouldn' need to want it so much to do it…" 

"You want to be seen by other people? Wouldn't that be... weird?" Logan frowned a little. "I mean that's the stuff they make films about, Rem." 

"Well, if Remy's gon' be around fo' a while, den if ot'er people could see him, you wouldn' have to hide so much." He shrugged again. "Den you'd have a real boyfriend to show off, eh?" 

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Logan laughed, reaching over to put a hand on Remy's knee. "Not sure I want to share you, though." 

"Oh, is dat how it is, eh?" Remy's hand covered his, their fingers lacing together. "Didn' know you were so possessive, Logan." 

"What can I say? Got used to having you all to myself." He brought their joined hands to his lips, and kissed Remy's knuckles. "Sorta want to keep it that way." He grinned. "Though I am curious as to what else you can do." 

"Well… maybe we'll experiment, eh?" Remy settled down in his seat, releasing Logan's hand so he could pick up his book from the backseat, preparing for the long drive ahead. "So are you gon' put Remy in one o' yo' books?" Logan laughed, focusing on the road. 

"Maybe. We'll see." 

\-- 

"So what did you need in New Orleans?" Logan looked up as Ororo sat down opposite him, a cup of coffee in one hand. He'd only been back a few hours when she'd called up and asked to meet him for coffee after she finished work, and although he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Remy and a terrible movie they could laugh at, he knew he couldn't say no. As always, Remy had stayed at home, and Logan's mind kept drifting back to him. He hadn't wanted to leave him on his own so soon after they'd got back, but Remy had assured him it was fine. 

"Just doing some research." He told her, which wasn't exactly a lie, though it obviously wasn't the truth, either. "There's gonna be a Cajun character in my next book. I was just taking notes on the culture, and the dialect. Getting a feel for the city, too, so I can mention landmarks and places." 

"Oh?" She smiled. "Why a Cajun, then? That seems like an interesting and rather specific choice." Now her smile turned sly. "Does this have anything to do with the mysterious young man I caught you on the phone with before?" 

"I, uh… well… I guess…" Logan stammered out, caught a little by surprise. 

"You know, if this keeps up I'm going to want to meet him." She took a sip of her coffee, giving him a pointed look over the rim of the mug. "It's about time you found yourself someone to make you happy." 

"Well… maybe you will. We'll see." He busied himself with his own drink, hoping to find a way to change the subject somehow. "So was there something you wanted to talk to me about, or were you just hoping to find out I ran off somewhere to get married without telling you?" 

"Oh, like you'd dare." She laughed. "But don't expect me to believe you didn't have company whilst you were there, mister." 

"If I admit to seeing someone will you let it go?" When she simply raised her eyebrows at him, he sighed. "Okay, fine. Yes, I had company. Yes, he's Cajun. Now drop it. Please?" 

"About time you got some, Logan." She laughed again, and Logan felt his cheeks burn a little. "So tell me about him." 

"I thought we agreed to drop it." Logan groaned. Ororo raised an eyebrow. 

" _You_ did. I agreed no such thing." She reached across the table and put a hand on his arm. "Alright, I'll let it go. For now." 

"Thank you." Logan sighed. He still had no idea how he'd explain Remy to her if it came to it, even if there was a chance she'd be able to see him eventually. If he was honest, he was actually rather glad that Belladonna's arrest hadn't been what Remy needed to move on. Although he knew Remy didn't belong in this forced, continued existence, and that he'd probably be happier in the great beyond, where he was meant to be, he allowed himself to be selfish in thinking he didn't want him to ever pass on. Especially now. 

"He must be really something, hm?" He snapped out of his thoughts and realised he'd been silent for a little too long, and Ororo was giving him a very knowing smile. Now he was definitely blushing. "I'm happy for you, Logan. I really am. I know you find it difficult to open up to people, and you don't like to talk about your feelings very much, but I know you get lonely sometimes. I've even thought about trying to set you up with someone but I know that wouldn't be your thing at all. It's really good that you've got someone now, however serious it is." She paused for a moment. "How serious is it?" 

"I…" Logan debated lying, or trying to change the subject, but just the thought of Remy brought a smile to his face that he couldn't hold back. "Pretty serious. But we're still keeping it a bit quiet, so… don't say anything. Please?" 

"I won't say a word. Promise." She laughed a little. "Now, actually, there _was_ something else…" 

"Knew it." Logan smirked. "What do you need?" 

"Could I get you to come into the school again next week and talk about your books? I don't mean to abuse our friendship like this but-," 

"It's not abusing our friendship, 'Ro. It's the same as if I was writing a teacher into a novel and I asked you to answer questions and help with the character." He shrugged. "Besides, I like talking about how successful I am. Boosts my ego." Ororo laughed at that. "Just give me a date and I'll be there. I can even talk about the book I'm writing now, if you like?" 

"That'd be great, thanks Logan." 

"No problem, 'Ro. It’s my pleasure." 

\-- 

When he got home, he found Remy waiting on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, a six-pack of beer and a movie ready on the TV. Logan stripped off his jacket and kicked off his boots as he walked in, and then he slumped down on the sofa next to him and pulled him close, leaning in for a kiss. 

"I could definitely get used to this." He murmured against his lips, grinning when Remy draped his legs over his lap and cuddled closer against him. "You quite comfy there?" 

"Oui." Remy grinned up at him, reaching for the remote to press play. Logan leant forward to grab the bowl and a bottle of beer, and then he settled back against the sofa with an arm around Remy. "Remy likes bein' close to you, cher." 

"You like being close to anyone, you comfort whore." Logan teased, yelping a little when Remy pinched the sensitive skin above his hip. "Hey, play nice." 

"Den don' call Remy a whore, you ass." Remy was still grinning, however, so Logan knew he hadn't taken him too seriously. "An' mo' importantly, not when he's bein' sweet an' romantic." Now Logan rolled his eyes. 

"Oh, please. I see right through you." He took a swig from the bottle, pausing to focus on the TV for a moment. "You're just using me for warmth and human contact. Don't think I don't know it." 

"Damn." Remy gave a dramatic sigh. "Dere goes Remy's cover. Alrigh', you got him figured out. It's all been a lie." 

"I knew it." Logan pretended to wipe a tear from one eye. "And all this time I thought we had something special." He put his beer down to free up his hand, and pressed it to his chest. "You've broken my heart, Remy! How could you?" Remy laughed and swatted at him. 

"Shut up, you damn idiot." He leant up, catching Logan's chin in one hand as he pressed their lips together. "Hasn' all been a lie, see?" He smiled against his lips, and Logan tugged him even closer and kissed him again. 

"Alright… I'll let you off, then." He murmured, grinning a little as Remy nuzzled against his cheek. "Damn Cajun." They settled back down, getting comfortable again, and focused on the TV. At frequent moments Remy would stick his hand into the bowl of popcorn and then lift it to Logan's lips, feeding him piece by piece. Only occasionally did he throw it at him, and Logan really didn't care this time. In fact, he only retaliated by throwing it back, and Remy for once didn't cheat and actually let it hit him. 

The film finished, Logan cleared away the popcorn and the empty beer bottles, smiling over at Remy as he insisted on washing up the bowl instead of just leaving it on the side. When he set the bowl to one side to dry, Logan held out his hand to him – and Remy laced their fingers together and let Logan lead the way up to his bedroom. When Remy kicked the bedroom door closed after stepping through it, Logan felt the atmosphere shift around them, and for the first time since his first sexual encounter, Logan actually felt nerves building up. 

They faded as soon as Remy kissed him, and he melted into him with a soft sigh, his hands finding his hips and grasping firmly but gently. Remy's hands slid up his spine as his tongue teased at his lips, and Logan pulled their bodies flush against each other. He moaned into the kiss as it deepened, only vaguely aware that Remy's hands were sliding around to his front, fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt. It was only when cool fingertips brushed against bare skin that he realised his shirt was in the process of being removed, and he shivered a little at Remy's touch. 

The plaid shirt fell to the floor at his feet, forgotten immediately. Logan staggered back, blindly pulling Remy along towards the bed, not once breaking the kiss. He felt the edge of the bed hit the back of his knees and he dropped down, finally parting from Remy as he did so. He glanced up, licking his lips and tasting the Cajun upon them, cool and crisp, his hands sliding up Remy's thighs before coming to rest upon his hips once more. 

Remy needed no encouragement. He knelt upon the bed, straddling Logan's lap, leaning down until their foreheads touched. His fingers danced down his spine once more, gently tracing the hard lines beneath the skin, loving how Logan shivered against him. Their lips met again, the kiss slow and soft, and Remy arched into Logan's hand as it swept up his back before coming to rest on the back of his neck, a vaguely possessive hold that sent a thrill through him. 

"This is a little unfair…" Logan murmured against his lips, pulling away just enough to look Remy in the eye. "Do I get to touch and enjoy, too?" Remy grinned, nipping lightly at Logan's bottom lip. 

"Oui, mon cher. Remy is yours." He leant back, quickly making short work of the buttons on his waistcoat. He smirked a little as he let the garment fall from his shoulders, and it dropped onto the floor beside the bed. Logan took over now, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it aside, licking his lips once more as smooth, tanned skin was revealed to him. As Remy shrugged out of his shirt, letting it drop on top of his waistcoat, Logan let his fingers trace over Remy's abdomen, enjoying the smoothness of his skin over the hard lines of muscle. 

He leant in, his lips finding the curve of Remy's neck, and when Remy sighed and arched into him he smirked against his skin. He nipped lightly, hands gliding up his sides, fingers tracing the curve of his spine, and he growled a little as Remy's hand fisted in his hair and tugged. With another growl, he dropped his hands to Remy's thighs and lifted him easily, twisting to drop him right in the middle of the bed – and when Remy's hands sought him out and tugged him over, he eagerly complied. He gazed down at him for a moment, sprawled beneath him with a lazy smile on that perfect, gorgeous face, and he reached up with one hand to gently sweep hair out of his eyes. 

"Fuck… you're so beautiful, Remy…" He lowered his head to trail kisses down from Remy's throat to his collarbone, settling himself between Remy's legs quite comfortably. As his tongue dipped into the hollow between his collarbones, Remy moaned low in his throat and arched up into him, his hands clutching at Logan's shoulders, nails digging into his skin ever so slightly. Logan let out a shaky breath as Remy's hips rolled against his, and he fisted one hand in the sheets beside them. "God, _fuck_ …" He began to pull away a little, but one of Remy's legs locked around him, holding him in place. 

"Don' you dare." He murmured, his voice rougher than usual. "Yo' not gon' disappear an' have fun on yo' own, not dis time." Logan laughed a little, leaning down again to kiss him sweetly. "Non, dis time yo' gon' share wit' Remy." 

"But… can you… I mean-," 

"Oui." Remy cut in, licking his lips. "Just gotta want it enough, cher." As if to prove a point, he bucked up against him, and Logan groaned when he felt a telltale hardness against his own. He leant down for another kiss, one hand sliding up the leg Remy had locked around him, groaning again softly as he rocked down into him. Remy broke the kiss with a sharp gasp, his nails digging deeper into Logan's shoulders. "An' Remy wants it… so much." 

"I can tell." Logan grinned, kissing down Remy's throat again, nipping lightly at his skin. He travelled lower, pausing every so often to pay special attention to a certain spot, loving the sounds Remy made and craving more. His fingers hurriedly worked at the fastening of his jeans, and he felt Remy kick off his boots as he pulled the zipper down. As he began to inch the jeans down his hips, Logan glanced up at him and grinned. "No underwear, huh?" 

"Speeds t'ings up a bit, non?" Remy grinned back, sitting up a little to watch Logan remove his jeans entirely. Logan's hands ghosted up the inside of Remy's legs slowly, and then he leant forward to press a kiss just below his naval, feeling Remy shiver beneath him. "Dieu, Logan…" 

"Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous." Long fingers threaded into his hair, and he smirked against Remy's skin, nipping sharply and delighting at the moan that he received in return. When Remy shifted, sitting up and gently easing Logan back, he glanced up at him with a look of puzzlement, and was met with a gentle smile and a kiss. 

"Now yo' not bein' fair, Logan." Quick, clever fingers had Logan's jeans unbuttoned before he could even register what Remy had said, and then a hand slid inside and cupped him through his boxers. Logan groaned softly, knocking his forehead gently against Remy's. "You don' know how long Remy's t'ought 'bout doin' dis, cher…" 

"I can get a good idea." Logan murmured in response, trying not to buck into his hand. He pushed up onto his knees, reluctantly pulling away from Remy in the process, and quickly yanked off his jeans and tossed them aside, grinning when Remy immediately curled his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. He paused, glancing up at Logan, almost as if asking for permission – and Logan nodded, giving it. 

He wasn't sure if the heat in his face was the hot flush of arousal or a burning blush from being so exposed in front of Remy. It had happened before, of course, when Remy insisted on surprising him in the bathroom after a shower, but this was different. Before it had just been a teasing glance from a male friend – though 'friend' had almost certainly been debatable back then – and now it was the appraising glance of a lover. Remy's hands rested on Logan's hips once the underwear had been dutifully removed, and he once again glanced up at Logan, a sly little smile on his face. 

"Ma, ma… c'est impressionnant." Remy murmured smoothly, his hands sliding down to Logan's strong thighs, nails lightly raking over his skin. "You don' disappoint, cher." He was definitely blushing now, almost entirely down to the tone of Remy's voice. To distract himself, he gently pushed Remy onto his back, and crawled up over him, settling between his legs once more. 

"Good to know." He grinned, letting Remy pull him down for another kiss. Both of them moaned as their bodies came together, and Logan bucked down at the same time as Remy bucked up. A bolt of pleasure shot up Logan's spine as their arousals brushed, and he broke the kiss with a sharp gasp. 

Remy was the first to touch. He snaked a hand down between them, wrapping long fingers around Logan's length and stroking from base to tip in one slow, smooth motion. Logan shuddered and groaned, one hand fisting in the sheets and the other gripping Remy by the hip. He thrust into Remy's hand as he stroked him again, their lips meeting in a fierce kiss, Remy's free hand clutching at Logan's arm as he rocked up into him. 

Growling a little, Logan broke the kiss and pulled back, sliding a hand between them, and wrapping it around Remy's, bringing him to a stop. When Remy raised an eyebrow in question, Logan merely smiled and bent to trail kisses over his stomach, getting steadily lower until he veered off to one side and continued down along the inside of one thigh. Remy's head rolled back as he moaned, soft and slow, and Logan grinned. 

"You make the best sounds, Remy…" He murmured, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin. Whilst he had him somewhat distracted, he shifted and reached over to the bedside table, hoping he'd left some supplies in there so he wouldn't have to wander into the bathroom for them. He didn't know if Remy's body still worked exactly the same as it had before, and if it needed some preparation first, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He was going to do this right, how it should be. 

He grinned when his fingers closed around a familiar tube, and he quickly uncapped it and spread some of the liquid over his fingers before setting it to one side until he needed it again. Remy sat up, leaning back on his elbows, and watched as Logan took up his position between his legs once more. He smiled when he realised why he'd temporarily stopped – of course Logan would think of that. He spread his legs a little as Logan's hand slipped between them, and he gave a long, soft sigh as he felt the first finger breach him. 

Like Logan, he had no idea if things would work the same way or if his body required the same things, but it certainly _felt_ the same. He twisted his fingers into Logan's hair as he pushed in deeper, pulling him closer, urging him on. When a second finger joined the first, a throaty moan ripped free, and he arched up off the bed. Logan bent down, lips trailing over whatever skin he could reach, gently stretching Remy open, loving the sounds he made with every movement. He should have known Remy would be a very vocal lover. 

He added a third finger even though he doubted Remy needed it – he was already loose enough with two, but he wanted to make absolutely sure. Remy whined when he pulled his fingers free, and Logan leant down to kiss him softly as he reached for the tube on the bedside table once more. 

"Don't worry, darlin', you won't have to wait long." He promised, squirting some more liquid out into the palm of one hand. Remy raised an eyebrow and leant up to nip sharply at Logan's bottom lip. 

"Better not." He murmured. "Ot'erwise Remy will start wit'out you." 

"Somehow I don't doubt that." Logan laughed, coating his length and then sliding a hand up under one of Remy's thighs, urging him to hook a leg over his shoulder. Remy complied immediately, and Logan positioned himself, ready. "God, you're fucking gorgeous…" 

"Oui." Remy grinned. "An' also ready fo' you, so get a move on." Logan grinned back at him, and gently began to push inside. His moan mixed with Remy's as he thrust into him, pleasure tingling up his spine, his hands tightening on Remy's hips. Beneath him, Remy arched up off the bed, one hand locking around Logan's arm, the other clutching at the sheets. Logan wanted to save this moment in his memory forever. "Mon dieu, Logan…" 

"Yeah…" Logan agreed, though he only had a vague idea of what Remy had said. "Fuck… this is incredible." It had been some time since he'd last taken someone to bed, but this definitely felt different somehow. Logan took a brief moment to catch his breath, and then he pulled back and thrust back in, slow to start with, testing the waters. When Remy only moaned louder, he thrust again, a little harder, and a little faster. 

He began a steady pace, thrusting hard into the inviting body beneath him, urged on by the sounds Remy made with each thrust. Remy reached above his head with one hand, his fingers curling around the headboard and clutching tight, and Logan subconsciously followed his lead, their hands almost touching. Remy locked his other leg around Logan's waist, trying to pull him in deeper, rocking back against him to meet each thrust. 

Logan had never really been that much of a vocal lover before, but Remy was drawing sounds out of him that would normally be kept quiet, or held back. He moaned loudly, gasped whenever Remy moved back against him, and he growled when Remy's hand fisted in his hair and yanked him down for a fierce kiss. Remy was not to be outmatched, however – and Logan was sure that, had Remy not been a ghost, the neighbours would be hammering on the wall in complaint of the noise. 

When Logan felt the first stirrings down below, he pulled his hand from Remy's hip and wrapped it around his length instead, stroking him quickly, not even attempting to match the rhythm of his thrusts. Logan squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his orgasm building, but forced them open again a moment later. He wanted to watch Remy when it happened, wanted to see the very moment he brought him to that final release. His hand slid across on the headboard, his fingers brushing against Remy's, and he held tight as he finally came with a shaky moan, spilling deep inside him. Remy was barely a second behind him, gasping out his name as Logan stroked him through his orgasm, until they collapsed together on the bed, breathless and satisfied. 

"God…" Logan breathed out, carefully pulling free of Remy and settling onto the bed beside him. He smiled when Remy instantly curled towards him, and he opened out his arms for him, gladly pulling him close. "That was… just…" 

"Oui." Remy murmured, nuzzling up under Logan's chin. "Perfect." Remy slipped a leg between Logan's, shuffling closer until he was practically sprawled over Logan's chest. Logan smiled and nuzzled into his hair, content and comfortable. 

"I love you, Remy." He said softly, kissing the coppery hair. He felt Remy smile against his skin, and Remy lifted his head to kiss his jaw. 

"I love you too, Logan." The use of first-person wasn't lost on Logan, and it made the moment all the more special for it. He'd long ago worked out that it meant something big for Remy to drop third-person, and you had to be someone he held very dear to have the privilege of hearing it. "I didn't say it befo', an' I should have. So I'm sayin' it now." He kissed him, soft and slow. "I love you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan's enjoying this new relationship with Remy.

Nothing in Logan's life up until now could compare to this moment. 

Not even a first kiss, or the first time he went to bed with someone and experienced his first orgasm not guided by his own hand. The first time he discovered love now seemed pathetic and throwaway compared to this, like a child's idea of what love was, so far from the actual truth of it. Holding Remy close against him, the usually cool body feeling somehow warmer against his own flushed skin, Logan was happier than he'd ever been in his entire life. 

When, as a young boy, an English teacher had told him he had a real talent with words and the kind of creativity that couldn't be taught, Logan had felt a surge of happiness and pride, because this particular teacher had been notorious for never praising a student on anything. When he went back and presented a copy of his first published novel to that very same teacher, Logan had felt an even greater surge of happiness and pride. That first book, the one that put him on the map and helped him earn his fame, was his greatest achievement – until now. 

Now that fond title had to be placed upon the young man stretched out beside him. Earning Remy's love had become his greatest achievement. He only wished now that he could flaunt that achievement as easily as he had flaunted his first published novel. 

Perhaps in time, as Remy had suggested, he could become visible to those who hadn't spent a lifetime conversing with spirits, and Logan could walk around with his gorgeous Cajun boyfriend on his arm. Perhaps he could introduce Remy to Ororo, and they could host dinner parties and Remy would get the credit he deserved for bringing it all together – and then once everyone had left he would help Remy with the dishes because Remy would pester him until they were done, and after, Logan would sweep him up into his arms and have a second special Cajun dessert right there on the table. 

It was all too easy to imagine a life where Remy was a permanent fixture. He could see two toothbrushes standing in a glass in the bathroom, even though one would go forever unused, and a second set of clothes in the wardrobe that would probably still have the tags attached, never to be worn. Little things to suggest that a second person lived there, probably unseen by anyone but Logan, but necessary in his mind. Maybe, if Remy couldn't be captured by a camera, he could even photoshop some photos together to put up around the house. 

Of course, Remy would eventually have to move on. No matter how much Logan wanted him to stay here with him forever, he knew Remy didn't belong here. They would have to find out what still kept him tied to this continued existence – but finding the answer did not necessarily mean they had to deal with it immediately. If they discovered the reason, then perhaps they could delay the solution until the right moment. Logan still had a lot of life left in him – maybe they could have a good thirty or forty years together, a proper long-term relationship, before Remy moved on? 

"Yo' t'inkin' so hard, Remy can hear de gears workin'." Logan blinked, slowly, as if the simple motion would pull him from his thoughts. Remy had shifted until he lay almost entirely on top of him, arms braced either side of Logan's head, and he was smiling down at him with a touch of amusement in his eyes. "If you can still t'ink dat hard after sex like dat, den Remy ain' done it righ'." Logan laughed at that, one hand curling over a sharp hipbone before sliding up to trace the curve of Remy's spine. 

"Oh trust me, you did it very, very right." As if to prove that statement right, Logan's voice came out as barely more than a lazy murmur – talking took up too much energy that he simply didn't have. "You've well and truly fucked me out, Rem." 

"Good." Remy grinned, fingers idly playing with Logan's hair. "Remy will give you a few mo' minutes, an' den he'll show you what else he can do." The promise of more was enough to stir Logan, despite his depleted stores of energy. He slid his hand higher, cupping the back of Remy's head to encourage him into a slow, lazy kiss. If he thought about it – and it was hard not to – Remy was the best sex he'd ever had. He must have laughed aloud, or at least smiled, because Remy lifted an eyebrow in question. "What?" 

"Nothing." Logan shook his head a little. "Just… it's kinda fitting that the best lover I've had is a ghost." 

"De best, huh?" Remy's grin turned sly, and Logan rolled his eyes. 

"Great. As if your ego needed any boosting." Remy gave a sharp tug on his hair, and Logan yelped a little. "Be nice." 

"Remy will if you will." He leant down to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Logan's mouth, and then sighed happily and nuzzled lightly into his cheek. "So tell Remy mo' 'bout him bein' de best lover you've had." 

"You'd like that, huh?" Logan's fingers weaved into his hair, and he smiled at the purr-like sound that Remy made in response. "Unfortunately you're already too full of yourself. I think if your head gets any bigger it'll explode." 

"Yo' such a charmer, Logan, wit' dat honey tongue o' yo's." Although he couldn't see Remy's face, Logan practically _heard_ the eye-roll that accompanied Remy's words. "Whisper mo' sweet not'in's to Remy, s'il vous plait." 

"So did you inherit this sass, or is it just purely you?" Remy lifted his head now, once again with one eyebrow raised. 

"Depends on who you ask." He told him with a grin. "Papa says it's all Remy, but Mikael always laughs at dat an' tells Papa he's full o' shit." Remy shrugged, his grin shifting into a gentle smile. "Come to t'ink o' it, dey're bot' as bad as each ot'er, so maybe Remy jus' picked it up from bot' o' dem." 

"Well, you seem to have inherited everything else from them in some way or another, so I'll believe that." Logan gently cupped Remy's chin in one hand. "You look a lot like him, y'know." 

"Oui, everybody always said dat." Remy leant into his touch, smiling gently once again. "Mika even said once dat if Remy's eyes weren' like dis, dey'd probably be grey, like Papa's." 

"I think I prefer them like this." Logan leant in to kiss him – short and sweet – and Remy gave another happy sigh and settled down comfortably on Logan's chest. "I'm glad you found me, Remy." 

"Remy's glad you can see him." His hand found Logan's, and their fingers laced together. Logan smiled, his eyes drifting closed even though he tried to keep them open. Falling asleep now seemed like a waste of time, when he could be using that time to further explore his new relationship with Remy. Still, as hard as he fought against it, sleep inevitably claimed him. 

\-- 

In his dream, he was a boy again, alone in the attic but not quite alone, sitting across from a ghostly boy with a chess set between them. The boy's name had been John, though dream-Logan couldn't remember his surname, and he'd been able to move the chess pieces without even touching them. He had been the second ghost Logan had helped to cross over, and the first to ever make physical contact with him. Back then, Logan had considered John to be one of his closest friends, even if he'd only known him for a week and three days, because John didn't care that he was a bit of a loner. 

The scene changed, and Logan was older, discovering himself and his desires. He'd thought that Remy had been the first ghost he'd felt attraction to, but he remembered now that there had been another – though not to this degree and it had been more youthful curiosity than actual sexual attraction. Logan couldn't place his name, and he'd only hung around for a few days, but Logan remembered him being the reason he started to question his sexuality. 

His dream shifted once more, only now he seemed to be dreaming of the future rather than the past, because Remy was beside him and there was a new book in his hands that somehow Logan knew was the one he was still in the process of writing. Remy appeared to be reading out loud whilst he lay sprawled across his lap, and Logan smiled at the extra emphasis Remy put into his smooth New Orleans drawl. 

In the blink of an eye, he was on his back in bed and Remy was above him, holding him down and giving him that sly little smile that told him the Cajun was up to something. He tried to speak, but no words came, and then a warm, wet heat enveloped a certain part of his body and he gave up on ever trying to speak again. 

Logan was pulled from his dream by a shiver of pleasure that jolted up his spine with some force, and it took a moment for his sleep-addled brain to make the connection between the sudden shift of his dream and the reality which met him upon waking. A long, low moan escaped his lips as he attempted to sit up, and he ended up barely propped up on one elbow as he glanced down to where Remy was settled quite comfortably between his legs. 

Long, coppery hair was swept back over his shoulder to keep it out of the way, providing Logan with a clear view of Remy's parted lips around his hard length, his cheeks hollowing very slightly as he sucked. Heat blossomed in Logan's cheeks, the flush spreading quickly down his neck and chest, and his hand fisted in the twisted sheets as Remy's tongue traced over highly sensitive skin. When Remy sank further onto him, Logan's head tipped back and he drew in a sharp breath, releasing it only seconds later in a shaky, breathy moan. 

Remy lifted his head, pausing just long enough to give Logan a grin, and then he ducked down again, his tongue lapping at the head of Logan's cock in short, teasing licks. With his free hand, Logan reached down and grasped a handful of silky hair, giving a slight tug of hopeful encouragement. Remy laughed softly, gently, and then took him back into his mouth, working him faster than he had before. Now that Logan was awake and aware, he had no need to slowly draw him out, and although the urge to tease was almost too strong to resist, he didn't want to be cruel on this first occasion. There would be time for that later. 

He wrapped long fingers around the base, gripping firmly but gently as he curled his tongue around every available inch, trying to memorise the taste and feel of him. When Logan's fingers tightened in his hair, he knew he was doing something very, very right. It didn't take much longer to work Logan right to completion, and when he came Logan breathed out his name around a moan, and fell back against the pillows, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Pleased with himself, Remy kissed his way up over Logan's stomach and chest until he reached his lips. 

"Jesus, Rem…" Logan murmured into the kiss, and Remy pulled back with a grin. 

"Hey, if you fall asleep on Remy befo' he's finished wit' you, den you can expect to get woken up." He kissed along the line of Logan's jaw, and then growled a little and gave him a sharp, playful nip. Logan grinned, sliding an arm around Remy's waist. 

"And what a way to wake up…" He turned to glance at his alarm clock, and blinked a couple of times before it registered that the clock read five in the morning. "How long was I even asleep for?" 

"A few hours." Remy told him, nipping at his jaw again. "Remy decided to let you recharge yo' batteries fo' a while." He nuzzled against his neck, and then his teeth found sensitive skin and bit down, drawing blood to the surface. Logan groaned softly, both at the act itself and at the idea of walking around with Remy's mark upon his skin. 

"Well you can wake me up with a blowjob whenever you feel like it, darlin'." He grinned again, lightly raking his nails over Remy's skin, and loving how he shivered against him. "Is there anything you're not good at?" 

"When it comes to sex? Non." Remy laughed, pulling back to inspect the mark he'd left upon Logan's neck. 

"Good." Logan pulled him in for a kiss, wrapping both arms around him to hold him firm against him. "So I'm thinking we spend the whole day in bed. Sound good?" Remy smiled, leaning in for another kiss. 

"Sounds perfect." Remy's lips found the mark on Logan's neck, and Logan let his head fall to one side to give him better access, a soft sigh escaping his lips. This was bliss. 

\-- 

Although the plan was to stay in bed, Logan ended up heading for the shower a few hours later, Remy in tow. He started off alone in the stall, smiling to himself as Remy sang obnoxiously loud – but then he was surprised when cool hands slid around his waist and lips pressed to his shoulder. With a grin, Logan turned and lifted Remy, pressing him against the wet tiles on the wall, leaning in for a kiss as Remy's legs wrapped around his waist. 

The shower took nearly three times as long as it usually would. 

As Remy collapsed back onto the bed, stretched out on the sheets and giving Logan a delicious view of his entire gorgeous body, someone knocked on the door. Groaning, Logan reluctantly pulled on a pair of loose jeans and hurried down the stairs – the sooner he got rid of whoever it was, the sooner he could return to bed and the beautiful Cajun that awaited him there. 

He swung open the door, ready to dismiss his unexpected visitor with an excuse, but he hesitated when Scott Summers smiled brightly at him and held out a small package to him. 

"Morning. Sorry, I know it's early, but I've gotta get to work and I figured I'd try and see if you were in on the way…" He gave the package a slight shake, and Logan took it from him. "That came while you were away, so I said I'd look after it until you got back." 

"Oh, uh… thanks, Scott." Logan couldn't remember if he'd ordered anything recently, but then his memory currently didn't stretch beyond how firm Remy had felt against him and how his lips somehow tasted faintly of whiskey and spices. He opened his mouth to make an excuse about needing to get back to something, but the words caught in his throat when he realised Scott was staring quite openly at his exposed chest. 

"Oh." Scott's smile turned faintly amused. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?" Logan felt his cheeks burn when it registered that it wasn't necessarily his chest that Scott was staring at – but more specifically the marks Remy had left upon him. When you threw in a bunch of fresh scratches and bites along with still-wet hair, it didn't take a genius to add it all up to one thing. "Well, I'll let you get back to your morning activities." Scott gave him a slight salute as he departed back down the drive, leaving Logan standing in the doorway, clutching the package and fighting off a blush. 

Before any other neighbours could see him standing there, he closed the front door and turned his attention to the package. Upon closer inspection, it was from his editor – and so it was almost certainly the first chapter he'd sent to her, returned to him with her suggestions and comments scrawled over the pages. He could look at it later. He tossed it down on the table in the hall, and then jogged back up the stairs to his bedroom. He intended to stay true to the plan of spending the entire day in bed, after all. 

"Who was dat?" Remy had pulled on his jeans, much to Logan's disappointment, although they did hug his legs in the most delicious way. He crawled up onto the bed beside him, and pulled him into a kiss. 

"Scott. He had some mail for me, that's all." He settled down against the pillows, one arm snaking around Remy's waist to hold him close. "I think you've thoroughly staked your claim over me." He gestured to the marks on his skin, and Remy grinned. 

"Good. Maybe he'll back off fo' good now, eh?" Remy prodded at one of the bites on Logan's collarbone, and Logan hissed a little and tried to squirm away. Remy laughed, sliding easily into his lap, straddling him comfortably, and he leant down for another kiss. "Dis Cajun don' share." 

"Except for group sex, right?" Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands coming to rest on Remy's hips. "I seem to remember you telling me about a threesome or two. Or seven." 

"Only on special occasions." Remy grinned, nipping playfully at Logan's jaw. "An' he don' ever want to share you. Non… you all Remy's now." Logan captured his lips in a kiss, and nipped sharply at his bottom lip, satisfied at the slight yelp he received in response. 

"I can live with that." 

\-- 

By noon, Logan could no longer ignore his body's need for sustenance. With Remy perched on the counter as always, he fixed up some lunch and then settled on the sofa whilst Remy picked some crappy daytime TV for them to watch. His lack of sleep and early start, along with the somewhat _vigorous_ workout he'd had this morning, had definitely started to take a toll on him. Although part of him wanted nothing more than to carry Remy back up the stairs – or even just through to the kitchen to make use of that table – he knew he had to rest and 'recharge', as Remy had put it. 

Besides, he _did_ have some work to do and he was more than happy to sit on the sofa with his Cajun curled up beside him. They had plenty of time to put every piece of furniture in the house to better use. Remy stretched out on the sofa, his legs across Logan's lap, whilst Logan opened up the package from his editor and rested the pages against Remy's legs, preparing to go through it and see what suggestions she had. His former editor had demanded several chapters at once before he would edit and review, but when he'd moved on to another company, Logan had been pleased to discover his new editor was willing to accept each chapter as it was finished, which was how he liked to work. 

The first chapter wasn't particularly exciting and didn't have much importance in terms of the story as a whole, but it was always how he linked the next book to the one before it. James was still recovering from the emotional departure of the main ghostly character from the previous book and he'd barely had much time to adjust – and then right on the last page of the chapter, he gets his next ghostly visitor. Logan hadn't given the new ghost a name or any sort of identity yet, mostly because he'd written the chapter before he'd learned enough of Remy to build a character around him, but now he knew exactly where the plot was going. James was going to get the love interest people had suggested to him, but it wasn't going to be a conventional one, and it was probably going to be quite a risk with his readers. James' sexuality had not been addressed directly, mostly because it hadn't mattered to the plot, but there had been subtle hints along the way that he didn't care what was in someone's pants. Even so, a sudden homosexual relationship with a _ghost_ might be a bit too much for some people to handle. 

After reading through what his editor had written, and the suggestions she'd made, he began to make his own notes about what he was going to change, and what he might want to add when he came to re-writing the chapter in the second draft. As he worked, Remy stole pages from the pile, reading through the chapter. Usually Logan would object, since it was an unfinished, incomplete and altogether not perfect piece, but he found he didn't mind Remy reading it as much as he'd mind someone else doing so. 

"Dat's Remy at de end, righ'?" He grinned once he reached the final page. "De fact dat de ghost jus' turns up in de kitchen… it's gotta be Remy, non?" Logan didn't look up from his notes, but he smiled. 

"Maybe." He paused, pen hovering over the page. "I haven't quite decided yet." That was a lie, of course, and a lie Remy would see through instantly. "I might make the ghost a woman." 

"Like hell you will." Remy rolled his eyes, stacking the pages together once more. "You've already been typin' away at de rest o' dis book. C'mon, it's Remy, righ'? You put Remy in yo' book?" Logan sighed, and then smiled over at him. 

"Yeah, alright. You're in the book." He put his notebook and pen to one side, and took the stack of pages from him. "You're the annoying loud-mouth ghost who haunts James for three solid chapters before you actual prove to be of any use." He pretended to pause and think for a moment. "Now that really does sound familiar, huh?" When a cushion hit him in the side of the head, he grinned. 

"Yo' an ass." Logan tossed the cushion back, rolling his eyes when it passed straight through Remy and dropped off the edge of the sofa. "Do you jus' fo'get dat Remy's a ghost so dat won' ever work?" 

"Nope. I'm fully aware of that fact." Logan shrugged, setting everything down on the coffee table. "The action is enough satisfaction for me." He sat back, resting a hand on Remy's knee. "So… what next?" Remy's legs slipped out of his lap as the Cajun moved closer, his head coming to rest on Logan's shoulder. 

"Don' care." Remy shrugged, getting comfortable tucked up close against Logan. "As long as we don' have to move from here." Logan smiled, sliding his arm around him as he reached for the remote control.

"Better find something for us to watch then, huh?" He flicked through the channels, searching for something – anything – that could serve as background noise whilst he inevitably spent the next hour or so kissing Remy. Eventually he settled on a film, as always, and he tossed the remote down and turned to nuzzle into Remy's hair. 

As predicted, the film had only been on the screen for six minutes before Remy shifted closer and their lips met – slow, almost lazy, drawing the moment out as long as possible to savour every second. They parted, then joined again, their kisses chaste in comparison to the previous night, nothing more than innocent brushes of lips. Logan smiled as he angled his head, pressing his lips to the corner of Remy's mouth, and then he kissed up over one sharp cheekbone and then round to his ear. When Remy's head tilted back, he traced the line of his jaw and kissed under his chin, gradually making his way down the sleek throat now exposed to him. 

Fingers stroked through his hair, the touch gentle, and Logan lifted his head for their lips to meet once more. Now Logan's lips parted, his tongue barely tracing Remy's lower lip, and when the Cajun's lips parted he swept in to deepen the kiss. He kept it slow, bringing one hand up to rest on the back of his neck, gently holding him in place. When he broke away, a little breathless, Remy licked his lips and smiled, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. 

"I could kiss you all day." Logan murmured, his eyes darting to Remy's still-parted lips before returning to meet his gaze. "All day, and I'd never get tired of it." 

"What's stoppin' you?" Remy replied with a smile, shifting slightly to press another kiss to his lips. Logan leant into it, happily melting against him, and before he was even really aware of it, Remy was stretched out beneath him on the sofa, fingers twisted into his hair as they kissed. He settled between Remy's legs, dipping his head to kiss along his collarbone, and he smiled against his skin as long fingers pressed down along his spine only to drag back up a moment later, nails grazing against his skin. Remy liked to touch, especially skin-on-skin – Logan had discovered that last night. 

He kissed back up to his lips, his tongue delving into Remy's mouth the second they made contact, commanding control of the kiss from the start. Remy seemed all too willing to submit, hooking one leg around Logan's thigh as he arched up off the sofa to grind his hips against Logan's. The low growl of desire that escaped Logan's lips joined Remy's sinful gasp, and he nipped sharply at Remy's bottom lip, growling again as Remy's nails dug deeper into his back. 

"God… I'm never gonna get enough of you…" Logan murmured, his lips trailing along Remy's jaw. "Where have you been all my life?" Remy grinned, one hand sliding back up into Logan's hair, his fingertips gently massaging his scalp. 

"Nawlins, Louisiana." Remy sighed happily, tilting his head back as Logan's lips found a sensitive spot behind one ear. "Jus' a road trip away, mon cher…" 

"I'd probably have hated you on sight." Logan laughed a little, nuzzling against his cheek very softly. "Arrogant, cocky, and with an ego the size of Australia…" He kissed him again, a chaste kiss like earlier. 

"An' den you'd have had Remy slammed up against a wall some place an' ridin' you all nigh', eh?" Remy grinned, licking his lips as one hand idly wandered down Logan's chest. 

"Oh…" Logan smirked. "No doubt." Remy flipped them with surprising ease, balancing his weight on his arms as he held himself up over Logan. "You're too damn gorgeous to pass up that chance." 

"Remy's flattered." He leant down, barely brushing his lips to the corner of Logan's mouth before he pulled away again. "T'ink you got it in you fo' anot'er round?" 

"I'm gonna give it a damn good shot." Logan groaned a little as Remy rocked against him, his cock already showing interest in the idea of having Remy one more time. He frowned a little when Remy pulled away from him, ready to ask where exactly he thought he was going – but then Remy slithered out of his jeans and straddled his hips, swiftly undoing Logan's jeans to take his length in one hand, and Logan forgot how to use _words_. 

Remy stroked him to full hardness, smirking as Logan writhed beneath him, hands firmly gripping his thighs. When he was sure he had him exactly where he wanted him, Remy shifted up onto his knees, and then began to sink down onto Logan's cock. The man beneath him moaned shamelessly as he slid inside, and Remy bit down into his bottom lip to suppress a moan of his own – though he was unsuccessful. 

"Jesus, Rem…" Logan gasped out, hands sliding up his thighs to grasp Remy's hips as he settled, pausing to catch his breath and adjust. Remy grinned, bracing his hands against Logan's chest in preparation. 

"You just lie dere an' let Remy do all de work, eh?" He gave Logan a quick, sly wink, and then he pushed up, gasping softly as the length inside him slid almost free, and then he sank back down faster than he had before, the gasp shifting into a loud moan as he did so. Logan groaned with him, his hands tightening their grip on Remy's hips, and when Remy moved again he helped him, encouraging him up, and then back down once more. As Remy began to move faster, Logan's body tried to follow his movements, his hips lifting to meet him, thrusting deeper into him. 

Remy had complete control, and it thrilled Logan. With Remy's hands firm on his chest, his movement was limited, and he had no say in the pace Remy was setting. When Remy slowed down, Logan could do nothing but whine with need, his nails digging into Remy's skin as he tried to rock up against him. He was completely at Remy's mercy. 

Thankfully for him, Remy wasn't in much of a teasing mood – which meant he was ridden hard, and ridden fast. When he felt the first stirrings of his oncoming orgasm, his hand found Remy's cock and stroked fast, wanting to bring him to release alongside him. When Remy came, tightening around him, Logan came barely seconds after. Breathless and worn out, Logan could do nothing but lie there, chest heaving as he drew in each breath, and he whimpered very faintly when Remy slid free and tucked him carefully back into his jeans. 

"You're gonna kill me." He breathed out, dragging a hand through his hair as Remy stretched out on the sofa on top of him. Remy smiled lazily, nuzzling against his jaw. 

"Deat' by sex. Now dat's a way to go, eh?" Logan laughed a little, idly stroking a hand up and down Remy's back, simply enjoying having him close. He would never describe himself as someone who enjoyed cuddling, but with Remy it was so natural, and felt so good. 

"It would certainly make an interesting story." When Remy laughed with him, Logan reached over to the coffee table and made a quick note on the open page of his notebook. "Maybe I'll work that in somewhere." 

"Remy will look fo'ward to readin' dat." He settled down happily with his head resting on Logan's chest, and Logan slid his hand up into long silky hair as he turned his attention once more to the TV. The film, totally forgotten, was at least three quarters of the way through. Logan hadn't even realised he'd been distracted for that long. When the phone rang, he groaned, not wanting to get up and fetch it. "Remy will get dat." Before Logan could protest, Remy had blinked out of existence, only to reappear a second later holding the phone. He handed it to Logan as he settled on top of him again, and Logan leant in to give him a quick kiss before answering. 

"Yeah?" Logan smiled as Remy began to idly trace patterns on his chest, and he almost missed the identity of whoever was calling. "Oh, hey 'Ro… no it's not a bad time. I do? Oh, I just fell asleep in front of the TV, I guess…" Remy's lips pressed to his jaw, and Logan sighed a little, tilting his head to the side to give him more room to work with. "Mmhmm. Yeah… yeah I can do that. Sure thing, that's no problem…" He gasped sharply when teeth nipped at his neck, and then he blushed when Ororo noticed. "Oh, uh… n-nothing. That was nothing." He blushed even further, giving Remy's hair a slight tug as he nipped again. "I… no! Well… maybe. Okay yes, I have company." 

"Tell her Remy's blowin' you so you can' talk fo' long." Remy grinned. Logan ignored him. 

"No you can't talk to him. Good _bye_ , 'Ro. I'll talk to you later." Logan quickly hung up on her amused laughter, and tossed the phone onto the coffee table. "Well I'm not gonna live that down ever." 

"She's probably jus' glad yo' finally gettin' some." Remy teased, leaning in for a kiss. 

"I hate you." Logan scowled, playfully, and Remy merely laughed and kissed him again. 

"Love you too, cher."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are ridiculously in love, and wonderfully happy.

Logan, not for the first time, was incredibly grateful that Remy could take on a corporeal form. Not just for intimate purposes, either – although he certainly enjoyed that very much, of course. But seeing Remy sat on his bed and wearing one of his plaid shirts as he flicked through his book was one of the most perfect things he'd ever seen. 

"I thought plaid was for hicks." Remy looked up from the book and grinned, catching the collar of the shirt between thumb and forefinger. 

"It's comfortable." He shrugged. "An' it ain' like Remy's gon' be seen in it, eh?" He set the book to one side, and patted the space beside him. "Now get over here." Logan didn't need to be told twice. He joined Remy on the bed, smiling as Remy shuffled closer and pulled him in for a kiss. He could _definitely_ get used to this. 

"How far have you got?" Logan asked, gesturing to the book he'd set aside. 

"Dat's de last in de series, non? Well… Remy's nearly finished it, which means he's nearly finished all yo' books." He grinned. "James definitely needs to get laid." Logan laughed. 

"Is that so?" He pulled Remy into another kiss, slowly pushing him further down onto the bed as he rolled on top of him. "Maybe James needs to follow my lead then, huh?" 

"Mm, he could learn a t'ing or two." Remy agreed with a laugh, running his fingers through Logan's hair. 

"Maybe he'll meet a dashing Cajun and fall in love." Logan trailed kisses along Remy's jaw, and then down his throat. "Even though he's the single most frustrating person in existence." 

"Yo' so flattering, Logan." Remy rolled his eyes, shoving at him playfully. Logan laughed, rolling to one side to sprawl on his back beside Remy. "Good t'ing Remy's gon' be here to make sure you write dis Cajun right, eh?" 

"Oh, yes. The only good thing about you staying here, clearly." Logan teased, stretching out with a yawn. "Think you've officially worn me out." 

"Are you complaining?" Remy rolled onto his side, his hand coming to rest on Logan's chest. When Logan said nothing, he laughed. "Didn' t'ink so." He nuzzled closer, smiling when Logan's arm curled around him. "So what are you gon' tell Ororo, eh?" 

"About you?" Logan shrugged. "I'll keep you all to myself for as long as possible. I don't really know what to do about this… I mean, what if she googled you? How will I explain that my boyfriend has the same name as a guy who's been dead for years?" 

"Tell her it's jus' coincidence?" Remy grinned. "Dere must be two o' dem, clearly." He shrugged. "Or maybe you could talk to Papa an' he could get t'ings removed from de internet." 

"… He could do that?" Logan raised an eyebrow. Remy merely grinned again. 

"Papa has connections." 

"I don't think I want to know. That kind of information usually comes with a risk of paying with my life." Logan was only half-joking, Remy could tell. "We'll work something out. We have plenty of time, right?" 

"All de time in de world, cher." 

\-- 

Remy closed the book for the final time, and smiled as he set it to one side, glancing over at Logan who slept peacefully at his side. If he hadn't already read through the first couple of chapters of the following book, he might have wanted to throw things at Logan at this moment – the book had ended with somewhat of a cliffhanger, and Remy had always been frustrated whenever a book ended that way and he couldn't immediately pick up the next one to find out what happened. 

He was surprised that he'd never picked up one of Logan's books before, because they were the sort of thing he enjoyed reading. Still, at least he'd read them all now, and he was definitely looking forward to what Logan wrote next, especially given that James would be meeting a Cajun ghost – and he was certainly curious how he was going to add in the romance angle. It made him smile to think how closely it would mirror Logan's life, and how no one in the world had any idea that Logan and James were incredibly similar. 

Remy slid down beneath the sheets and stretched out alongside Logan, nuzzling into him very slightly. Logan murmured incoherently in his sleep, and a smile tugged at Remy's lips. Very gently, so as not to wake him, he leant over and pressed his lips to one cheek. 

Whatever it was keeping him here, holding him back from whatever lay beyond, he was glad they hadn't found it yet. He was glad that he still had time to be with this wonderful, perfect man. He only wished they'd crossed paths in life, and been able to flaunt their love for the world to see. He grinned now, imagining strutting around New Orleans with Logan on his arm, pressing him up against the wall outside a club and claiming him as his in front of everyone. It would have been fantastic – and he wondered if maybe his relationship with Belladonna would have faded into the background. Maybe if it had, Julien wouldn't be dead, and he'd still be living and breathing today, too. It was pointless to think of such things, of course – he was dead and nothing would change that. 

But it didn't mean he couldn't still love, and be loved in return. 

\-- 

In Logan's dream, he was on a date with Remy. 

An actual proper date, in a restaurant and everything, in the public eye. Remy was visible to other people, and somehow he was eating and drinking along with him. A few people would glance over at them every so often, and Logan wasn't quite sure why until one of them walked over and asked if he could sign her copy of his latest book. The book he'd written for Remy. 

The evening was perfect – he walked home hand-in-hand with Remy, with a slight pause as they danced together in the park, and everything was wonderful. They were already kissing before they got through the front door, and they stumbled together up the stairs as clothing was removed along the way. By the time they reached the bed, they were giddy and laughing and so perfectly in love. 

Before sleep claimed him, he lay with Remy, satisfied and content, and told him he would marry him if he could. He fell asleep to the sight of Remy's brilliant smile. 

And woke alone – the bed beside him empty, and with no signs that Remy still lurked nearby, merely restless as usual. He wandered the house, nerves growing with every empty room he found, and called his name, becoming frantic when he received no response. He called for him until his throat was hoarse and when night fell again Logan _knew_. 

Remy was gone, and he wasn't coming back. He dropped to his knees in the middle of his kitchen, and he _broke_. 

Logan woke, for real this time, his heart pounding frantically, and he sat bolt upright in bed, searching the room for Remy, the dream still vivid in his mind. His heart rate slowed to a calmer level when his eyes found Remy beside him, sitting up with a concerned look in his eyes, and he sighed, dragging a hand over his face. 

"Logan?" Remy's hand pressed to his back, a touch made all the more soothing by the fact he was _there_. "What's wrong, cher?" Logan shook his head, not trusting himself to speak just yet. The panic he'd felt at waking and finding Remy gone, even though it had only been a dream, was too much for him. It terrified him, a little. "Cher, talk to Remy. He's worried 'bout you." 

"Sorry." He finally breathed out, turning to look at him. "Bad dream." He found Remy's hand with his own, and gripped it tight. Understanding, Remy shuffled closer and wrapped his arm around his waist, resting his chin on Logan's shoulder. 

"You want to talk 'bout it?" 

"We were on a date. A proper date." He told him with a sigh. "And everything was perfect. But then… but then I woke up and you were gone. Actually gone, not just… wandering somewhere else. It was like you'd never been here, and I… I…" He broke off, his voice cracking, and Remy instantly shifted to straddle his lap, both hands cupping his face. 

"I'm righ' here, Logan. Righ' here." He murmured softly, leaning in to kiss him. "You can see me, an' touch me. I'm here." Logan closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and then he opened his eyes again and smiled. 

"Yeah… you're right here." He lifted a hand to cover Remy's, leaning into his touch very slightly. "And you're not going anywhere." He turned his head, and pressed a kiss to Remy's palm. "Not on my watch." 

"Non." Remy grinned, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek lovingly. "Not till yo' old an' grey an' even mo' grumpy." He linked his fingers with Logan's, and held his hand tight. "An' den we'll go toget'er, de way it should be." Logan breathed out softly, pushing aside the panic from the dream. Of course Remy wasn't going anywhere – he would stay here until they worked out what was keeping him here, and even then… well, maybe once they knew what that was, it could be put off for a while. "Feel better, cher?" 

"Yeah… yeah, I do." He smiled, pulling him closer and kissing him sweetly. "Thank you." Remy kissed him in return, gently easing him back down into bed. "What time is it?" 

"Nearly half t'ree in de mornin'. You should try an' sleep again." Logan curled an arm around him and rolled until Remy was partially pinned beneath him. 

"No. Not just yet." He shook his head, and then nuzzled into Remy's hair, breathing in deeply and imagining he could smell the scent of his shampoo in the silky locks. "Just… need to hold you for a bit." Remy smiled, and he lightly trailed his fingertips up and down Logan's arm, gentle and soothing. 

"Remy finished de book, by de way. Dat cliffhanger was cruel." He felt Logan smile, and he grinned. "Remy's glad he's read de opening o' de next book, ot'erwise he'd be mad at you fo' dat." 

"I'd say I'm sorry, but… I'm not." Logan murmured, lifting his head a little. "Does that make me cruel?" 

"Oui." Remy answered straight away, with a slight laugh. "But Remy loves you anyway." That definitely put a bright smile on Logan's face. "What?" 

"No, it's nothing… I just… I don't think I'll ever get used to hearing that from you. I don't think I want to get used to it, either." He shrugged. "Every time I hear it I just think how lucky I am to have you, and I… I don't want to lose that. Or how it makes me feel to know you love me." 

"Well, Remy's afraid yo' gon' have to get used to it, cher, 'cause Remy ain' ever gon' stop tellin' you." He nuzzled his cheek again, and accepted the kiss Logan offered a moment later. "But he understands. He feels dat way, too." 

"Then I won't stop saying it, either." Logan smiled down at him, gently brushing his fingers against one cheek. "I love you, Remy." 

"You don' know how much dat means to Remy, cher… or how long he's waited to hear it." He shook his head a little, and sighed. "Remy was never short o' physical love, an' he always had lots o' love from family, but… de only one who ever came close to truly lovin' Remy was Belle, an' look where dat went." He met Logan's eyes, and smiled again. "Remy never had someone fall in love wit' him befo'." 

"Impossible." Logan grinned. "Clearly everyone in New Orleans is insane." 

"Yeah? An' how'd you figure dat?" Remy laughed, raising an eyebrow. Logan shrugged one shoulder. 

"Well, they'd have to be, 'cause how else could they not fall in love with you? I mean… Remy, you're perfect. You're gorgeous, you have the hottest body I think I've ever seen, and don't even get me started on those legs of yours… and you're also the sweetest, kindest man I've come to know. You don't do anything for yourself if you can do something for someone else first, and that's pretty damn special. So for these people to live around you, work around you, flirt with you and be in your life, and not fall in love with you? Gotta be crazy." Logan felt a familiar blush creeping across his face as he finished speaking, and he awkwardly cleared his throat. "I mean, uh-," 

"Non. Don' you dare take any o' dat back." Remy cut in, his voice soft, barely above a whisper. "You take any o' dat back and Remy might actually hit you." He blinked, and Logan realised that tears were beginning to form in Remy's eyes. "I wish we'd met befo', cher… I wish I coulda spent my lifetime wit' you. I wish dat we could have lived toget'er, fo' real, de proper way wit' a shared closet an' two toothbrushes in de little glass on de shelf, an' we'd have date night every Monday even if it was jus' a movie on de sofa." When Remy blinked this time, a couple of tears escaped – and Logan caught them, and brushed them away. "I wish dat we could have married, de way Papa an' Mikael married, an' I'd be Remy Etienne LeBeau-Howlett, 'cause Papa would kill me if I gave up de family name." 

"Yeah, I can imagine that." Logan laughed softly, brushing away another stray tear. "You'd marry me? Really?" 

"Oui, mon amour." Remy slid a hand up into Logan's hair until it came to rest on the back of his neck. "A t'ousand times, if I could." 

"Then we will." Logan smiled. "Right now. Right here." Remy's eyebrows lifted, and he opened his mouth to speak but Logan pressed a finger to his lips before he could say a word. "I know it sounds stupid, but… we don't need a bit of paper to be married. All we need is each other, and our vows." Remy smiled, shaking his head a little. 

"We might want to skip de bit 'bout 'till deat' do us part'." Logan laughed, leaning down to kiss him fiercely. 

"God, I love you." Remy grinned, holding him close and kissing him again. "So… what do you say?" 

"Remy's gon' need a proper proposal, cher. If you gon' do it, you gotta do it righ'." Logan swept Remy's hair out of his face and didn't even hesitate. 

"Remy LeBeau, will you marry me?" Remy took Logan's hand, and brought it to his lips, kissing his knuckles – and not once did he take his eyes from Logan's. 

"Oui, mon amour." Logan pulled him into a kiss, long and slow, and when they parted he sat up, and tugged Remy up with him. He turned to sit facing him on the bed, and patted the space between his legs, urging him to move closer. Remy shifted to sit between Logan's legs, and hooked his own around Logan's waist, and when Logan took his hands he felt an odd little flutter in his stomach. 

"Remy… when we first met, I thought you were the single most irritating person in existence. I still think that now-," he broke off with a quick grin, and Remy rolled his eyes, "-but not quite in the same way. You're not the easiest person to live with, although you don't steal my food or drink all the milk and leave the empty carton in the fridge, so I guess that's something. You're stubborn, you're impossible, and sometimes I wish I could throw a cushion at you and not have it sail right through you. But I love you, not in spite of these things, but because of them. Because they're part of who you are, and if I can't love those things, then I can't love you – and I do, so much. More than I would have ever thought possible." 

He paused, knowing that this had to be perfect, because he would only ever get one chance at this. Remy deserved only the best, and it had to come straight from his heart. 

"Ironically, as a writer, I'm not good with my words when it comes to stuff like this. I can write ninety-thousand words through a stranger's eyes, from a stranger's heart, but when it comes to my own heart the words won't come. I don't feel good enough for you, and I know you'll argue that but it's the truth. You're an angel, Remy – you're fierce and strong and beautiful, both to look upon and deep down inside. I've never met anyone like you, and I'll never meet anyone else who comes close to you, and somehow I've earned your love even though I don't think I deserve it. I don't know how it came to this when I started out wishing you'd go haunt someone else, but I'm glad you're still here, at my side, even if that means watching me when I sleep." 

He paused anything, a little frustrated because he felt he wasn't saying the right things – he wanted to say so much more, but, to him at least, it wasn't coming out right. Remy squeezed his hands very gently, and gave him a reassuring smile, and when Logan saw fresh tears welling up, he knew he was obviously doing something right. 

"I don't know what I'll do without you, and I hope I don't have to find out. I hope I get to love you for the rest of my life – no, wait. I'll love you for the rest of my life, no matter what, but I hope I get to tell you with every year that passes. I hope you'll still be there when I'm, as you put it, old and grey and even grumpier. I hope you still love me then, when I can't keep up with your wild and insatiable sexual appetite. I want to be there at the end, when we move on into the next life together, as it should be. You have my heart, Remy LeBeau, from now until the end of time. I'm yours, body and soul, and I love you." 

"Cher…" Remy breathed out, but if he'd wanted to say more he couldn't. He let his tears fall, taking a moment to get his emotions under control before he attempted to speak again. "Dat's de most beautiful t'ing anyone's ever said to Remy, snide remarks an' insults included." He smiled through his tears, and brought Logan's hands to his lips to kiss them. He knew it was his turn now, and he drew in a deep breath as he prepared to spill his heart. 

"Dere's never been anyone like you in Remy's life, not one. Like he said, no one's ever fallen in love wit' him befo', so he's new to all dis, an' it's wonderful. We've been t'rough a lot toget'er, an' you've done so much fo' Remy… so it's time you heard de whole story. Remy knows you were curious, back in de beginnin', 'bout why he came to you in de firs' place, especially when he t'ought it was hopeless to t'ink at his murderer could be caught, but you never asked, 'cause even back den you were so careful an' so considerate o' Remy's feelin's. Dat's de kind o' man you are, Logan. You got dis gruff exterior but it's hidin' de sweet, carin', gentle heart you are inside, an' dere's not'in' Remy loves mo'." 

He drew in another deep breath, and when Logan lifted a hand to brush his tears away, he leant into his touch for just a moment. 

"So… de reason he came here… he didn' want yo' help, he'd resigned himself to bein' stuck here fo'ever, but… but Remy was lonely, so lonely, an' he'd watched you fo' a few days befo' he showed up in yo' kitchen. He saw in you somet'in' he'd always seen in himself… an' he wanted yo' company. You were anot'er lonely soul, Logan, and Remy wanted to help _you_. Dat's why he came here, why he trailed after you everywhere, kept on yo' back and wouldn' leave you alone. Remy died alone, cher. He died not knowin' what true love felt like, an' he died alone. He didn' want dat fo' you, too." 

Logan reached for him, wanting to hold him close and wishing he could change what had happened in the past, but he knew he couldn't – he had to let Remy finish, he had to let him speak. _Then_ he could hold him close and hold him tight and never let go. 

"Fallin' in love wasn' in de plan, o' course, but Remy's not complainin', 'cause now he's got himself a perfect man who loves him mo' dan he can put into words, an' dat's all Remy ever wanted. You love Remy fo' who he is, not fo' what he looks like or fo' his money or his name. You don' care who Remy was, what he was part o' or where he came from. You risked lookin' like a madman jus' so you could give Remy's family a chance to say goodbye an' de closure dey needed." He paused, and then he smiled. "When I t'ink o' home, I t'ink o' you, an' dere is nowhere else I'd rat'er be dan in yo' arms righ' here in dis room. You said I have yo' heart… well, cher, you have mine too. I'm yours too, t'ough in my condition I can only promise you in soul." Logan laughed softly, only faintly aware that _he_ was crying now, too. Remy wiped the tears away, and took his hands again, and Logan smiled gently. 

"Remy Etienne LeBeau, do you take this grumpy hick to be your husband?" He asked, his voice rough with emotion as he tried to hold back his tears. Remy grinned, and gave his hand a slight squeeze. 

"Oui, cher. I do." He blinked back his own tears, and gave Logan another brilliant smile. "An' do you take dis handsome, charmin' Cajun to be yo' husband?" 

"I'd be mad not to." Logan laughed, shaking his head a little in amusement. "Guess we'd better seal this with a kiss, eh?" 

"Dat's usually how dis works." Remy leant in, and Logan met him halfway. The kiss started off slow, and soft, tasting faintly of salt from Logan's tears, but then Logan kissed him deeper, pulling him close against his body and holding him there. It wasn't every day you got to have a first kiss with your husband, and he was going to make this one count. When they parted, Remy was smiling so brightly that Logan thought he'd never see something so beautiful ever again. 

"I wish I could do this for real, Remy-," he broke off when Remy put a finger to his lips, his smile never faltering for a second. 

"It was real, cher. It was real fo' us, an' dat's all dat matters." He leant in, kissing him again. "An' no fancy ceremony wit' cake an' a hundred people we don' actually want to be dere is ever gon' be better dan dis." Logan grinned, pulling Remy into his lap and showering his face with gentle kisses. Remy laughed, one arm slung around Logan's neck, and he leant in until their foreheads touched. "Remy don' need dat. All he needs, an' all he'll ever need, is righ' here." 

"I'll remember you said that the next time you claim you need me to wash the dishes." Logan smirked, and Remy rolled his eyes. 

"… Dat's different." He huffed. "An' if you don' do de dishes den we're gettin' a divorce." 

"Oh, ouch." Logan feigned hurt, but just the idea of him being divorced by a ghost was enough to break his act, and he laughed with Remy. "Alright, alright. I'll do the dishes, darlin'." 

"Good." Remy kissed him softly, and then he sighed happily. "You've made Remy de happiest ghost in de world, cher. You don' know how much dis means to him." 

"I think I can hazard a guess." Logan trailed kisses along his jaw and up to one ear, wondering if this could count as a wedding night of sorts. He doubted Remy would argue against it. 

"It's somet'in' he's always wanted." Remy smiled, weaving his fingers into Logan's hair. "Jus'… to be loved like dis, to have dis… well, _true_ love." He pulled back a little as it dawned on him – was that what had kept him here? He'd always said that the one thing he wanted to do before he died was fall in love and find happiness. 

And now he had. 

"What's wrong? Remy?" Logan frowned a little as he pulled back to look at him. "You look like you've seen a ghost, if you'll excuse the expression." When Remy didn't answer, Logan grew a little worried. "Remy…?" 

"Dat's it." Remy finally spoke, though his tone of voice did nothing to reassure Logan. "Dat's… dat's why…" 

"Remy, talk to me. What is it? Hey." Logan cupped his face and forced their eyes to meet. "What's wrong?" 

"Remy knows why he's still here." The words struck Logan hard, and he swallowed thickly. 

"You… you do?" Remy blinked, slowly, and he gave a subtle nod. 

"It's you, Logan. Yo' what Remy needed." He took one of Logan's hands, and noticed how it trembled slightly within his own. "All Remy wanted to do befo' he died was find pure, true love… an' he found it. Wit' you." 

"Are you sure?" His voice wavered slightly, and he tried to get it back under control. If Remy had worked out what it was keeping him here, and if it had indeed been resolved, then that would mean… moving on. "Surely there were other things you wanted to do before you died, right? Some other stuff you never got around to doing? Maybe a place you wanted to go, or… something you wanted to see, or do?" 

"Logan…" 

"No, I… there has to be something else!" He shook his head. "If this was the only thing keeping you here, then there would be a door-," he broke off sharply, knowing something was wrong even before he'd finished speaking. He knew this feeling well – he'd felt it many a time over the course of his life. He knew what it meant. "No. Tell me… Remy tell me there isn't a door where there wasn't a door before." 

"Wish I could, cher…" Remy whispered, his gaze going to a spot just over Logan's shoulder. "But dere's a door." Logan turned, although he didn't want to, and his blood turned to ice when he saw the door set into a space in his wall. It was made of some deep, dark wood, with a detailed carved design, and the hinges were fancy gold pieces that stretched out like vines from the edge of the frame – and on its face was pinned a sign that proudly declared 'Remy Etienne LeBeau's room'. 

Logan wasn't sure if the doors were actually there, or if his mind had conjured them up through his connection to the spirit world, but he knew it was the way ghosts moved on to where they belonged. Often the doors took the form of something connected to their old life – the front door to their house, a door to their place of work, or a bedroom door like Remy's evidently was. One time it had been a garage door. He didn't know how long they remained there, or if they would stay there permanently if a ghost did not pass through it. Logan had never dealt with a ghost who wanted to stay – as soon as the door appeared, they thanked him, said goodbye, and opened it. The doors faded as soon as they closed, never to reappear again. 

"Maybe… maybe Remy doesn' have to go t'rough it…" Logan tore his eyes away from the familiar door, and shook his head slowly. 

"Remy, I… I don't know if you get another chance." He told him, though he wished he wasn't saying the words. "I don't know if the door will stay there, or if it'll come back if it disappears and you haven't gone through it. If you don't go through it now, then you might never be able to move on, and you'll be stuck here forever." 

"Den Remy will stay here." Remy gripped Logan's hand tightly, avoiding looking at the door. "He won' leave you, Logan. He'll stay here fo'ever." 

"I, Remy… no…" Logan felt tears spring into his eyes, unable to believe he was actually going to encourage Remy to go when he wanted nothing more than to keep him here with him, but the thought of Remy wandering in this life alone for eternity was even more painful than the idea of being without him. "I don't know what'll happen, and I don't want you to be here alone after I'm gone. God, I wish I could keep you here with me, I wish I didn't have to do this or say these things, but… but if you don't take this chance now, then you'll never move on to where you belong." 

"But… we're happy. I don' want to leave you, Logan." There were tears in Remy's eyes too, now, and Logan wanted to kiss them away and pretend none of this was happening. "I love you…" 

"I know. I know, and I love you too, and I'd give anything not to have to go through this…" He glanced back at the door, waiting, so innocent in appearance as though unaware of the pain it was causing simply by existing. "But this is what the end game was, Remy. I was always going to help you move on… I just… never expected it to happen so soon." He pulled him into a kiss, clutching at him desperately, wanting to remember everything about how he felt in his arms. Remy kissed back just as fiercely, hands fisting in his hair – and when they parted Logan let his tears fall. "I don't want you to go, but I know you have to." 

"Remy could stay… I could stay here wit' you, Logan, an' be happy an' in love. We can fo'get dis ever happened, an' maybe de door will still be dere – maybe it'll wait until Remy is ready, or maybe… maybe it'll come back. An' even if it doesn', who cares? I want to be here wit' you. I don' want to move on wit'out you, Logan." 

"I know, darlin'. I wish I could go with you, I wish this wasn't happening, but we can't ignore it." He shook his head, his voice cracking as he spoke. "You have to go through it, Remy. You have to…" Remy stood, facing his old bedroom door, and when Logan's arms circled his waist from behind, he leant back into him. "I love you, so much. That's why I know I have to let you go." 

"What will you do?" 

"I'll cope." Logan's voice broke, and he drew in a deep, shaky breath. "I always do. Besides, I've got a book to write, remember? Gotta hook James up with that sexy Cajun ghost and write about his crazy sex adventures." Remy laughed through his tears, and turned to face him. "I'm gonna miss you, so much, but I'll be okay. I promise." 

"Will you?" Remy cupped his face, and kissed him, long and slow, pouring as much of his love into it as he could. Logan grasped Remy's wrists gently before he could pull away, and more tears fell as he opened his eyes. 

"No." He answered honestly. "I won't be. Not for a long time, at least. I don't know what I'm going to do once you're gone… I…" He'd promised himself he'd be strong when it finally happened, that he'd let Remy go and he wouldn't be selfish. He made the promise long ago, back when he was still a boy, to never ask a ghost to stay with him, to never put himself and his own feelings first – but this was different, and he was going to be selfish just this once. "Don't go." 

"What? But Logan, you said-," 

"I know what I said, and I don't care." He shook his head, not even bothering to fight off the tears. "Don't go, please. Stay with me! I can't… I can't lose you, not now. You were right, Remy. I was lonely, so goddamn lonely and too damn scared to admit it to myself, because admitting would mean acknowledging that I can't hold down a single relationship because no one would ever understand that I can talk to fucking ghosts, but then you came along and you did more than understand and I tried to stop myself falling in love because I knew this day would come but damnit I fell anyway and now I can't lose you!" Remy tried to speak, but Logan jumped in again before he could. "Maybe… maybe when I die, I'll come back, too. Maybe because I don't want to leave you… maybe that will bring me back as a ghost, too, and we can spend eternity together. We could go anywhere we wanted, and not have to worry about being seen or heard!" 

"Logan, cher… I want not'in' mo' dan to be wit' you fo'ever, an' if dere was any way to know all o' dis fo' sure den he wouldn' even hesitate fo' a second. But maybe we will be toget'er anyway, on de ot'er side…" 

"No, Remy, I… I can't… I just can't…" Logan gripped him by the shoulders now, though his grip was weak and he slumped forward a little, sobbing into Remy's chest. "All my life I've told myself never to let my emotions get in the way of someone moving on, that I wouldn't be selfish… but this time… this time I think I deserve to be a little selfish…" 

"O' course you do, cher." Remy gently pulled him up, and kissed his tear-streaked cheek. "You deserve to t'ink 'bout yo'self fo' once. You deserve to be happy." He gave him a weak smile. "Jus'… t'ink 'bout what we have, cher. We have de purest love between us, an' not'in' can compare to dat. We'll be partin' as husbands, too, an' don' you ever t'ink ot'erwise. Logan…" He sighed, and when he smiled this time it was stronger. "I was miserable, an' alone, an' resigned to bein' stuck here dat way fo' eternity. But it was you, an' yo' love… you made me complete, Logan, as cliché as dat sounds. You gave me de purest happiness dat no one else in de world could give me. You t'ink 'bout dat, you t'ink 'bout how happy you made dis Cajun, an' you t'ink 'bout how much I love you." 

"Remy…" Logan kissed him again, and Remy knew that this time it was a kiss goodbye. He drew it out as long as possible, pressing himself as close to Logan as he could. When they finally parted, Logan lifted a hand to stroke Remy's cheek, and he gave him a smile. "I'm not gonna miss your singing." Remy laughed, and he wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. Logan buried his face into Remy's neck, and for the first time he didn't have to rely on his imagination to be able to smell the expensive cologne mixed with smoke and spices that clung to Remy's skin. For the first time Remy felt warm to the touch, and he could smell fruit in his hair, and when they kissed a final time he tasted of coffee and chocolate with an underlying hint of mint. For just that moment, Remy was alive – Logan could feel his breath on his cheek and his heart beating in his chest. 

"You'll see me again, cher. Don' doubt dat. Dere ain' no way I'm lettin' you go." Remy leant in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Until den, you live yo' life fo' me. You write dat book, you have dinner wit' yo' friends, an' maybe drop by to see Papa an' Mikael from time to time, 'cause dey're yo' family now. You have fun, an' you be happy, ot'erwise dere's gon' be trouble when I see you again. You hear me?" 

"Loud and clear, darlin'." Logan nodded, and Remy turned to face his door once more. "I love you." 

"An' I love you." Remy took a step forward, his hand reaching for the handle. When he hesitated, Logan stepped up behind him, and put a reassuring hand on his back. "I'm scared, Logan." 

"You don't have to be." He moved closer, and put his hands on his shoulders. "Go, Remy. Soar high." He murmured softly, remembering the message engraved upon his gravestone back in New Orleans. The familiar words were enough to give Remy that last burst of confidence to reach forward and take hold of the handle, and Logan stepped back as he opened the door. 

Logan put on a brave face when Remy turned to look over his shoulder, and he gave him the brightest smile he could manage. Remy returned it, saying a final silent goodbye, and then he stepped through the doorway and into the light beyond. The door swung shut behind him, and once it clicked back into place, the door itself began to fade. 

Logan stood there until he was staring at nothing but his wall, and then he dropped onto his bed, and broke down into tears. 

Already the house seemed cold and empty without Remy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it makes any of you feel any better, I'm totally not okay after writing this chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan struggles with Remy gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT THE END. I feel I have to keep stressing that because I get a lot of comments with people pleading that this can't be the end. Well... it's not. Still got a couple more chapters to go!

Logan stirred early, blinking sleepily as his eyes registered the faint light piercing through his bedroom curtains. It was rare for him to wake before noon by himself, and for a moment he just lay there, enjoying the warmth his bed offered. Still, he was awake, so he may as well get started with the day. He rolled onto his side, a smile on his face ready to greet the Cajun he knew would be sprawled beside him – and it froze on his face before fading instantly when he remembered just what had happened only hours before. 

Remy wasn't beside him. Remy would never be beside him again. 

He felt tears sting his eyes, and he hurriedly pushed up from the bed and tossed aside the sheets, clambering out to stagger in the direction of the bathroom. He wouldn't cry. Not again. He'd cried more than he'd thought he could, which probably explained how he'd slept so well, and he wouldn't cry again. He didn't think he could take it. He didn't look at himself in the bathroom mirror – he merely started up the shower, and stepped under the spray of water before it even reached the right temperature. 

The cool spray helped to distract his mind from things he didn't want to think about, and as the water warmed he turned his attention to the actual act of bathing, although part of him couldn't shake off the silence from the other side of the curtain that now felt unnatural. He sighed and shut the water off once he was done, and he yanked back the curtain with more force than necessary. Stepping out, he reached out a hand for a towel – but his fingers closed around thin air. 

He froze, realising he'd reached out for the towel Remy would normally have been holding out for him, and he stared blankly at the washbasin where the Cajun usually perched, seeing nothing but the white porcelain. For a moment he just stood there, water dripping into his eyes from his hair, the only sound in the room being the thud of his heart in his chest as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. With slow, deliberate movements, he turned and snatched the towel from the rack on the wall, hooking it around his hips securely before he reached for a second for his hair. 

He turned his back on the empty bathroom and wandered back into the bedroom, towelling his hair hurriedly as he crossed to his closet. He tossed the damp towel onto the floor as he selected a pair of jeans, but when he went to select a plaid shirt his hand stopped, hovering over it. He swallowed thickly, and then changed his mind, selecting a simple black long-sleeved shirt instead. 

"Plaid is for hicks." He murmured to himself as he closed his closet and turned away. He dressed quickly, feeling the emptiness of the room creeping up on him the longer he stayed there. He'd get his morning coffee and maybe a slice of toast, and then he'd throw himself into his work to keep his mind occupied. 

He dragged his hand through his hair by way of styling it, and wandered down to the kitchen. He passed by the front door on the way and gathered up his post and the newspaper, rifling through what was inevitably junk or bills as he walked. He tossed the paper onto the counter as he made his way to the coffee machine, ignoring how it didn't get immediately picked up by the ghost that would usually hop up onto the counter and sit there, making idle comments about the state of his kitchen. 

This was never going to be easy, he'd known that right from the start. It was always difficult the day after a ghost had departed, when the house was silent again and he had no company but his own, but he'd always been able to get over it pretty quickly. But of course that was before, with ghosts that were hardly more than friendly acquaintances. Remy had been different right from day one, and Logan didn't know if he would ever get over the empty house and the silence that followed him around. 

He holed himself up in his office, putting on some music to keep his mind off the quiet, and threw himself into his work. He had to tell himself that the Cajun in his novel wasn't Remy, that it was just some character he'd thought up, and whilst it didn't necessarily work, the process itself kept his mind occupied. To help things along, he worked mostly on scenes that didn't include much interaction with the Cajun, but his heart wasn't in it and he knew he'd have to go back through it all and probably rewrite the whole damn thing. 

It just wasn't working. 

A run, then. He'd go for a run, take some time out of the house, and clear his head. After all, that had been what he'd always done, and something Remy had never been involved in. That, at least, would feel normal. It wouldn't feel like something – more specifically, someone – was missing. So, that's what he'd do. He'd go and run for an hour or two, and get some space from the house. 

It worked. For an hour he was back to his usual self, blissfully alone on the streets, and nothing was out of place. He paused in the park to take a quick break, and a smile actually pulled at his lips as he dropped onto a bench to take a swig from his water bottle. It was a beautiful day, just on the right side of warm but with a fresh breeze to chase away the heat. After a few minutes, he pushed himself up again, and turned in the direction of home. As he ran, he planned out the rest of his day in his head. He'd take another shower when he got home, maybe watch some crappy TV and drink a beer, and just relax. 

He fumbled with the keys as he jogged up to his door, and he turned to glance across the street as a car pulled up. He watched Scott climb out, and winced – and he hurriedly turned back to his door hoping Scott wouldn't come over and say hi. He opened the door, tossing his keys onto the table, and kicked it shut behind him. 

"Remy, I'm ho-," he broke off mid-call, his whole body tensing for a moment. He'd forgotten. The run had distracted him so well that he'd actually forgotten why he'd needed the distraction in the first place. His chest tightened painfully and he staggered back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut as he drew in several deep breaths. He wouldn't lose it now. He couldn't face losing it again. He ignored the sting of tears in his eyes, and tried to force them back. Not now. Not here. Not again. 

Once the feeling had passed, he took a final deep breath, and hurried upstairs to shower. 

\-- 

He held it together through lunch, and went back to work when his mind was more settled. He went back through everything he'd written and was surprised that most of it was actually pretty decent all things considered. He changed what needed to be changed, added things in places, and after a few hours he was satisfied that his editor would be pleased with his progress. He shut it all down, and decided to go and grab that beer and stick a movie on that he could fall asleep to. 

He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and a bowl of popcorn, and settled down on the sofa. He'd picked out a film he'd seen many times before, something he'd never watched with Remy. Anything to stop himself from thinking too much about the Cajun who wasn't curled up beside him. 

For the first half of the film, he managed to keep his mind occupied, actually managing a laugh or two at some of the funnier parts. He finished off one beer and started on the second, sliding further down onto the sofa to get comfortable. His hand reached idly for the popcorn – and he realised it had been entirely untouched. There was no one to feed it to him, no one to throw it at him in an attempt to annoy him. 

Remy wasn't here to grab a handful and throw it at his face, or drop it down his shirt. He wouldn't ever again duck and dodge out of the way when Logan tried to swat at him. He wouldn't slide up against him to pluck stray pieces from his shirt and feed them to him. 

Logan set the bowl on the table along with his beer, dropped his head into his hands, and broke all over again. 

His phone started ringing a couple of minutes later, but he ignored it – and he continued to ignore it when it rang again ten minutes later. He stretched out on the sofa, burying his face into a cushion to muffle his sobs, clutching at it tightly. The pain in his chest was too much to bear. Logan had once scoffed at the idea of heartbreak presenting in a physical manner, but now he understood what it felt like. 

The film's credits were rolling when someone knocked on his door, sounding rather urgent. He considered ignoring that, too, but when they knocked again even louder, he knew he had to at least go and see who it was. He pushed himself up, scrubbing at his face with both hands and hoping he didn't look as awful as he felt, and headed out to the door. 

"Logan!" Ororo stood on the doorstep, worry in her eyes even before she took in his appearance. "You weren't answering your phone, so I thought…" She trailed off, noticing his red-rimmed eyes still swimming with tears, and reached out a hand to him. "What's happened? What's wrong? Logan…" 

"I…" He tried to speak, but grief gripped him too tightly, and he only choked out another sob. Ororo stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace, and he sank into her arms gratefully. He held onto her firmly for several minutes, and when she pulled back, he let her close the front door and lead him through to the living room. 

"Sit down, Logan. I'm going to make you some cocoa or some tea, and then we're going to sit down together and you're going to tell me what's happened. Okay?" He could only nod, not trusting himself to speak just yet. Ororo left him sat there, collecting up his empty beer bottle on the way to the kitchen. When she returned, she was carrying two mugs of something hot, one of which she gave to Logan. "Here, drink this. You still take your cocoa with cinnamon, yes?" 

"Y-Yeah." He took the mug, and sipped it carefully. "Thanks." She sat beside him, and then reached into her bag and pulled out a small pack of tissues. When she handed him one, he actually managed a smile. 

"Now. Will you tell me what's happened?" Logan took a moment to wipe at his damp eyes, and wondered exactly what he was going to tell her. He couldn't tell her the truth, there was just no way that was possible, but he had to tell her _something_. "Does this have something to do with Remy?" His chest tightened again, and he drew in a sharp breath that he knew she'd picked up on. "Ah." She laid a hand on his arm soothingly. "Did you two… have a fight?" 

"I… no…" Logan shook his head a little. "Not… not exactly." 

"Did you… break up?" She frowned very slightly. "It sounded like you were happy when I called you… what happened?" 

"We didn't… we didn't break up." Logan's voice quivered, and tears jumped back into his eyes. "He's… he's gone." At Ororo's questioning look, he took a slow, deep breath, and prepared to speak the words he'd hoped he'd never have to. "He's dead." 

"Dead?" She gasped, bringing a hand up to her mouth. "Logan… oh, god… Logan I'm so sorry… what happened?" He couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't tell her that Remy had been murdered, and especially that it had been years ago when it had happened. He'd have to lie. 

"An accident." His throat felt raw, and his voice was rough. "There was an accident. And he's dead." She set her mug down and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into another embrace. 

"I'm so sorry…" 

"I loved him." He choked out, one hand clenching into a fist around the tissue. "I loved him, 'Ro. I've never loved anyone like I loved him, and now he's gone." 

"I know there's nothing I can say or do to make this better, but if there's anything…" She pulled back, stroked her fingers through his hair. "I'll cancel your visit to the school." 

"No." He shook his head, and took a sip of his cocoa. "No, it'll be good for me to get out of the house and do something. I… I can't stand it here. Everywhere I look…" 

"He was here, then." She smiled a little now. "I thought as much when I called you." 

"I just keep thinking of him sat there wearing my shirt and giving me that damn smile…" He rubbed at his face again, and sighed. "We were only just starting, and now…" 

"He loved you, didn't he?" She took his hand now, holding it in both of her own. "He loved you as much as you loved him." 

"Yeah, he did." A few tears escaped, and he closed his eyes with another sigh. "We were in love, and we were happy, and now I'm just… empty." He took another sip of cocoa, and then he set the mug down. "I keep forgetting he's gone. It just doesn't seem real… it's only been a couple of days since we were in New Orleans with his family." He tensed with a sharp intake of breath. "His family. Oh god…" 

"Logan, don't think about that now." She gave his hand a squeeze. "Maybe you should call them tomorrow, or go down and see them in a few days." 

"I… yeah. I'll have to." He leant forward, dropping his head into his hands. Ororo put a gentle hand on his back, her touch soothing. "I just can't believe he's gone." 

"Tell me about him, Logan. Tell me all about him." It did the trick. He smiled as he sat back, and he told her all about Remy. 

\-- 

It took three days before Logan woke up not expecting Remy to be lying beside him. It still hurt when he opened his eyes to see the empty space, but it was easier than the painful disappointment and heartbreaking grief that had hit him full-force before then. He still caught himself doing things he'd done whilst Remy was around, though he was starting to remember that his towel would be on the rack and not being held out to him, and that Remy wasn't waiting on his sofa when he went out for his run, or to shop for food. 

The house was still cold and empty without him, but Logan was learning to deal with it. 

He'd never be over it, he knew that now. He'd never get past it, but he would learn to go about his life through it. He'd hold his head up high and do his job, he'd go to dinner parties with friends and act like a regular guy, and if he curled up in the sheets clutching a plaid shirt that he'd convinced himself smelled like Remy and cried himself to sleep every night, no one need know. Ororo knew enough of the situation to be able to inform their friends to tread lightly around him, and he knew she'd told them not to pry. He needed his space, and so far everyone had respected that. 

He had unknowingly started wearing black more often, something Ororo had noted when she'd dropped by with lunch for him. He hadn't intentionally picked out the black shirts or the black jeans, but he wasn't surprised, either. He was in mourning, after all. Plus plaid shirts only served as a painful reminder of that teasing Cajun voice, and he wasn't ready to deal with that just yet. 

He still hadn't called Remy's family. 

It hadn't been easy to get a private number for them, but he'd found one eventually after hours in front of his laptop. It was still taped to his desk, waiting for him to pick up the phone and dial it. He didn't think he could call them just yet. He didn't want to tell them Remy was gone – it had been hard enough speaking the words to Ororo, and this would be far worse. Jean-Luc and Mikael knew that Remy had been a ghost, they knew their situation. Telling them Remy was well and truly gone would be far too difficult right now. 

When it came to it, he pulled up the courage to go into Ororo's school and gave his talk to the kids. He managed it pretty well, too, all things considered, even when a couple of them asked about his new book and what James was up to in it. He skirted around the character of the ghost fairly well, wanting to avoid bringing up anything that might trigger a reaction to a memory of Remy. The last thing he wanted to do was break down in front of a bunch of teenagers. On the way home, he stopped by the store and did a final shop for food. 

That was the last time he left the house for a week. 

\-- 

When someone hammered on his door, Logan groaned and didn't even bother to push himself up from the sofa. He knew who it would be, and he knew that if he didn't answer she'd grab the spare key from its place beside the door and let herself in. Sure enough, after a few minutes of knocking and shouts of his name, he heard a key being turned in a lock, and the door opened. Moments later, Ororo stepped into the living room and turned to stare him down, hands on her hips. 

"Do you not answer your phone now? Or the door?" He merely grunted at her, and reached for another bottle of beer. "Oh, Logan… this has gone too far." 

"What has?" He grumbled, cracking open another beer and ignoring the litter of empty bottles on the coffee table. 

"You haven't surfaced in a week, not since you came to the school. You don't answer any calls, and I know I'm not the only one who's tried. Your editor even rang me yesterday to see if I'd heard from you because you've not been returning her calls." She took in the state of the room, and the state of Logan himself, and sighed. "You haven't been looking after yourself, either. I can see that just from looking at you." 

"I look after myself just fine." He knew he looked awful. He'd been wearing the same pair of old jeans for three days, the same white shirt for two, and he hadn't shaved at all in over a week. He'd always preferred to be a bit scruffy, but he'd gone past scruffy and into 'werewolf transformation' at this point. 

"You look awful." She shook her head slowly. "And I'm not going to stand here and let you keep doing this. So you're going to get up off the sofa, you're going to clean up these empty bottles, and then we're going to go out and have lunch together." She passed a glance over him again. "After you shower and shave and put on some clean clothes, of course." 

"Ororo, I'm not in the mood for this." 

"No, you're not, but you need it." She stepped forward and reached down, grabbing one of his arms. "Come on, up. I know you're grieving, I know your heart is broken, but holing yourself away in here isn't going to change anything or make anything better. It's only going to make things worse." 

"Please, just… leave me alone." He shook her off, and knocked back the beer. With a frustrated sigh, Ororo took it from him, and held it out of reach. "I'm not kidding, 'Ro. I'm really not in the mood." 

"I don't care." Part of her wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug and hold him through his grief, but she knew that wasn't what he needed. "Get up. I know this is hard, Logan, I understand that. You fell in love, you were happy, and then the man you love was involved in an accident, and he died. You've been lonely for so long, and when you finally find someone to chase away that loneliness, he gets ripped from you. It hurts, and it's horrible, and nothing will ever make it okay again, but you cannot do this to yourself." 

"Don't." 

"Remy's gone, Logan. Do you really think he'd want this for you? Do you think, if he's watching you right now, he'd be happy that you're destroying yourself?" It was entirely the wrong thing to say, but Ororo didn't know that. Logan looked up at her, tears in his eyes yet again. 

"He's not watching me, 'Ro. He'll never be watching me, because he's gone forever." He pushed himself up, and dragged a hand through hair that stuck up in all directions. "He's not just dead, 'Ro. I can handle the fact he's dead. It's the fact he's _gone_ that eats at me." He couldn't keep it inside any longer. He'd intended, after a period of intense grieving, to travel down to New Orleans again and talk this out with people who knew, people who understood, but now that Ororo was here, it was bursting out of him and he couldn't stop it. 

"Logan… what do you mean by that?" He laughed a little now, and the sound surprised Ororo so much she actually wondered for a moment if his grief was so intense it had broken through to his sanity. 

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." He shook his head, dropping back down onto the sofa again. "You'll think I'm crazy." 

"Logan, I already think you're crazy." She said fondly, moving to sit beside him. "You're a writer, it comes with the job." His lips twitched into a smile, but it faded almost instantly. "But you can tell me anything." 

"Really? I'll remind you that you said that when you're calling the men in white coats to come and pick me up." He dragged a hand through his hair, and sighed. "Well, fine. I'll tell you. But… let me finish before you whisk me away for a psych eval." 

"Alright." She took one of his hands very carefully. "But promise me something first. Promise me that when you've got this off your chest, you'll clean yourself up and we'll go and get lunch." Logan stared at her for a moment, and sighed again. 

"Fine. If you still want lunch after this, we'll go get some damn lunch." He fell silent for a moment, trying to work out where to start – and then figured he'd go for the beginning. "I've told you before I was a pretty lonely kid, not many friends, didn't really go out much or make much of an effort to be around other people. Well… and god, trust me I know how crazy this sounds but… there was a reason for that. I kept to myself because of what I could do. Of what I can still do." When she said nothing, and only gave him a questioning look, he took a deep breath. _Here it goes_ , he thought. "I can talk to the dead." 

"Oh." She raised her eyebrows, but she said nothing else, and so he went on. 

"Not in that whole Sixth Sense sorta deal where the dead are just wandering around all bloodstained and battered or anything. I… I can see them as they were, like ghosts, but… they're not how ghosts are portrayed in movies. They look solid, and you can sometimes touch them, too. I guess it depends on how long they've been around or how quickly they've learned to control their situations." He paused, waiting to see disbelief or amusement on Ororo's face, but he saw nothing but curiosity. "And they're here because something is keeping them here, something left unfinished or unsolved. There's always a reason. It started when I was a boy, and I helped a kid move on simply by being his friend." 

"That must have been frightening for a child." 

"It was, at first. But then I got used to it, and it just became a thing that happened to me. It took me a while to realise that they were being held here for a reason, but once I did, I started trying to help them move on. It's… it's where I got the idea for my books. It all started because I have this weird gift." He shrugged. "They'd never stick around for too long, because I was good at helping them. I used my writer connections and the excuse of research to find out things, and I wanted to get through it as quickly as possible. Whilst I worked, they gave me stories to use for my books. It hurt at first, when they moved on, but I got used to it. It was just another job, and I knew I was doing something good by helping them move on. But then…" 

"But then Remy came along, right?" He glanced up at her, surprised that she sounded so serious. There was no hint in her face that she thought he was insane. She looked as though she believed every word. 

"Yeah… Remy came along. He'd been killed, about five or six years ago. Assassinated, as it turned out, because… well, that's a long story. He was different to the others right from the start, because he didn't seem to want my help in finding out why he was still here. He was so frustrating at first, always following me around and complaining at me, but… I grew fond of him. To the point where I fell in love." He smiled a little now, but it was a sad smile, and Ororo's heart broke just a little. "He eventually told me about how he died, and that's why I went to New Orleans. I was tracking down evidence, and we found his killer, but… it wasn't what was keeping him here." 

"Then what was?" 

"Love." Logan's voice tightened, and the tears in his eyes finally fell. "Remy had never been in love before, and never had someone love him in return. We came back here, expecting to have months – maybe even years – together, whilst we tried to work out what it was holding him back from moving on to where he belonged. We were making plans… he was going to try and work on making himself visible to other people, so we could go out in public together and so you'd be able to meet the boyfriend you'd already heard about, but then… but then he realised he'd always wanted to fall in love before he died." Logan lifted a hand, and he wiped away the tears. "It was me. I was what he needed to move on. And so… he did." 

"And that's what you meant when you said he was gone." 

"Yeah… he was dead when I met him, but now… now he's gone." He covered his face with his hands, partially to keep himself under control, and partially because he didn't want to see if Ororo actually did think he was crazy. 

"I think… Logan, I think you need to speak to someone." When he looked up, she smiled. "You're grieving, deeply, and I think talking to someone about it might help you get through it."

"You… you want me to talk to a grief counsellor?" He sounded so surprised, she almost laughed. "You… I don't understand. You actually believe me?" 

"Logan, you've never once lied to me. Not once, not since I've known you." She took both of his hands, and held them tightly. "And yes, it sounds absolutely insane, but… I can see in your eyes that it's real. You're not lying about this, and I've seen weirder things in the world. So if you tell me you can talk to ghosts, and that you fell in love with one, then I believe you." 

"I…" He looked stunned, but then he smiled. "Thank you." When he pulled her into a hug, she laughed and returned it. 

"I imagine you haven't told many people about this." She pulled back, gently placed a hand against his cheek. "And I understand how difficult it must have been. You were so certain I would think you'd lost your mind and that I'd call in the doctors to take you away." 

"Well… I've been living with this since I was a kid and I know if the situation was reversed I'd think that way." He shrugged. "Because it's insane. Talking to the dead isn't exactly a normal thing." 

"No, it isn't." She laughed. "But then, you're not exactly a normal person, Logan." She stood, and then held out a hand. "Now… how about we get you into the shower and some clean clothes, hm?" 

"Ah, yeah… I guess a promise is a promise, huh?" Logan sighed. "Alright. I'll go jump into the shower and cut back some of this scruff." 

"And whilst you do that, I'll clear away these empty bottles." She paused, and put a hand on his shoulder when Logan stood. "Wherever Remy is now, he's happier for loving you. Just remember that." 

As she moved away to start clearing away the bottles, fresh tears leapt into Logan's eyes – but he was smiling.

\-- 

Four days later, Logan got into his truck, and travelled to New Orleans. 

His first stop was the cemetery. He walked without really needing to look where he was going. He knew the path. It only took him a few minutes before he was lowering himself to the grass, and touching a hand to the cool stone, his finger tracing Remy's name. He'd stop by the LeBeau house later, and let them know Remy was gone and in a better place, but for now, this was more important. 

"Never thought I'd say it, but I miss your singing." He murmured to the headstone, and he shifted to sit so he could lean against it. "I miss you nagging me about the state of the kitchen, or about leaving towels on the bedroom floor. I miss… everything. Damn it. Why the hell did you have to go and make me fall in love with you, Remy?" 

"He had dat effect on a lot o' people." Logan looked up, startled, and a smile tugged at his lips when his eyes found the long, lean figure of Jean-Luc LeBeau. "It was hard not to love him." 

"Even when he was the most frustrating little shit I'd ever met." Logan laughed a little, and pushed to his feet. When Jean-Luc held out a hand, Logan clasped it warmly. 

"Dat's my Remy." Jean-Luc smiled, but it didn't quite touch his eyes. "I don' need to ask why yo' in town." When Logan gave him a sad smile, he sighed. "It happened, den? He's moved on?" 

"Yeah." Logan nodded. "About two weeks ago." He felt a stab of guilt. "Sorry. I should have told you sooner, but-," 

"Non." Jean-Luc shook his head. "You must have been grieving hard, Logan. Besides… we said our goodbyes, twice now. He's… he's in a better place." He studied Logan for a moment. "What was it, den?" 

"Love." Logan told him, and smiled again. "I loved him, and he loved me, and that was all he ever wanted." 

"Well." Jean-Luc smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "He moved on wit' a happy heart. Dat's all I could ever ask." 

"I was going to drop by the house to tell you." Logan turned his gaze back to the headstone. "But I had to come and see him first." 

"I understand." Jean-Luc stepped up beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Yo' welcome any time, Logan. You don' even need to call ahead. Yo' always welcome in Remy's home." He gave his shoulder a squeeze, and smiled again. "Hell, yo' practically family now." 

"Thanks." Logan said, and meant it. "Maybe I'll head on over before I leave town again. I just… wanted to spend some time with him." 

"O' course." Jean-Luc paused, and then spoke up again. "We did as he asked, y'know." When Logan turned to him and lifted an eyebrow, Jean-Luc grinned. "Mikael an' I… we're gon' have anot'er kid in de house. It's early days yet, but… we're hopeful." 

"That's great." Logan grinned back at him. "You gonna call it Remy?" 

"Is dere any ot'er name we'd consider?" He nodded. "Oui. We're gon' call it Remy, no matter what sex it comes out as. We made a promise to Remy, an' we intend to keep it." 

"That's good." Logan turned back to the headstone, and smiled fondly. "He'd be pleased to know that." 

"Well, I'll leave you wit' him fo' a while." Jean-Luc clasped his hand again. "An' t'ank you again, Logan, fo' lookin' after him when I couldn'." 

"No need to thank me." He watched Jean-Luc walk away, and then sighed. "I really miss you, Remy. When I get where you are, I'm gonna kick your ass for leaving me behind, I hope you know that."


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been twenty years, but the ache is still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, there are still a few chapters left to go! Twenty years is a long time, I know, but you'll understand why~

_Twenty years later_  

Logan rolled over and groaned, dragging a hand over his face. He really hated mornings. Still, he was awake, and no amount of wishing otherwise would send him back to sleep – he'd long ago learnt that it was just easier to get up and start the day instead. He stumbled into the bathroom, his hand automatically reaching for the music player sat on one shelf. As he reached to turn on the shower, the opening bars for 'I Need A Hero' started playing. 

He'd learnt to cope, too. 

He bathed to the sound of Bonnie Tyler belting her heart out, and when he stepped out he took the towel from the bracket suspended above the sink. When he dressed, he selected a plaid shirt from his closet and smiled at a comment only he could hear. Washed and dressed, he made the routine trip down the stairs – detouring by the front door to pick up his post and the newspaper – and through to the kitchen for coffee and a slice of toast. 

He chucked the newspaper onto the counter with a practised motion, and then flipped it open before he turned to the coffee machine. The newspaper would sit there until breakfast was over, and then he'd chuck it on top of the pile of recycling in the corner. He didn't bother with a plate for his toast – he buttered it, dropping the knife onto the counter, and took a single bite before he paused, and turned to put the knife in the sink instead. 

Taking the toast and his coffee with him, he went back up to his office, plonked himself down at his desk, and booted up his laptop. He had a few emails from his publisher and his editor, which he'd reply to later. He knew they'd both be pushing him for his next book, but he'd have nothing to give them. 

It had been nearly fifteen years since he wrote an end to James' story. Fifteen years since he'd closed off the series, and given James an unhappy ending. He'd written a couple of standalone novels since then, just enough to get by and keep his publishers happy, but the inspiration just wasn't there anymore. Something would come to him eventually, of course, because it always did – but right now, he was drawing a blank. 

He hadn't had a ghostly visitor in three years. It was the longest he'd gone without company of the paranormal kind since he'd first discovered his unique talent, and it had really brought him to a halt. He didn't quite know why the spirits were staying away – he'd even considered the possibility that maybe he could no longer see or speak to them – but he figured it would work itself out in the end. Until then, he just went about his day as best he could. 

Ororo had moved to a new school a few towns away, but she still kept in regular contact with him. He still didn't get why she'd so readily accepted his tale of unexpected romance, but she never once doubted him. Over the years he'd told her more and more about Remy, about what happened between them, and about how he'd given him up almost as soon as he'd had him. She'd listened, she'd comforted, and she'd understood as best she could. 

She'd once suggested that he move away from that house and make a new start somewhere else, but Logan knew he'd never be able to do that. But her suggestion had given him an idea of his own – if the silence of the house was too much, if he found himself relying on habits he'd developed with Remy around, then why not make things easier? 

That had been when he'd installed the bracket above the sink where he could hang a towel roughly in the same place Remy would have held it, and started playing music while he took his shower. He'd tracked down videos of Remy from when he was alive and copied the audio, and he'd listen to his voice as he worked or when he felt particularly low. He kept a stack of books on the bedside table, all with bookmarks in various places, and he still sat down every Monday to watch a film and eat popcorn, leaving a space beside him for someone who would never sit there. 

Some would call it unhealthy, but Logan found it easier to move on with his life with those few small things to remember his Cajun by. Not that anyone but Ororo and Remy's father knew about it, of course. 

He still dropped by New Orleans when he could. He visited Remy's grave to talk to him once a year, and Jean-Luc or Mikael would meet him there. They always offered to take him back to the house, but he always declined politely. Neither of them ever asked why – Logan was sure they didn't need to. They'd know. That would be a bit too painful. They'd had the child Jean-Luc had mentioned on his first trip down after Remy's 'death' – a boy, called Remy, as they'd promised. Logan had never met him. He'd never even seen him. 

He couldn't. 

There were just some things he couldn't handle. 

\-- 

He dealt with the emails as best he could, and then shut down the laptop after staring at a blank document for about an hour. He had nothing to write about, so he was wasting his time trying. Back to the routine – and today, that meant he needed to go grocery shopping. He grabbed his jacket and pulled on his boots, and snatched up the keys to his truck as he left the house. He switched the radio on as soon as he got settled in, and tossed the book on the dash onto the seat beside him. Little things that kept him going. 

As he pushed the cart around the store, gathering the things he knew he needed, his phone rang in his pocket. With a groan, Logan fished it out, expecting to see his editor's name on the display – and he was pleasantly surprised when it wasn't. 

"Aren't you in class?" He said as soon as he answered the call. 

_"I've got a spare five minutes."_ Ororo sounded well, as she always did. She loved the new job, even if it had taken her away from her close friends. _"I was just calling to see if you'd be up for lunch at the weekend. I'm in town to see Charles and Erik – it's their third wedding anniversary if you remember – and I thought it'd be nice if we could meet up, just the two of us."_  

"Sounds good to me." He smiled as he balanced the phone between his ear and his shoulder, reaching to grab a box of cereal. He'd been invited to the party Charles and Erik were throwing, so he knew he'd see her there, but it would be nice to have an hour or two where he could talk to her about Remy without someone overhearing and asking questions he couldn't answer. "What time are you thinking?" 

_"Right, of course, because otherwise you'll sleep until_ _midday_ _."_ She laughed, bright and cheerful, and Logan's smile widened into a grin. _"How about I meet you outside our usual place around twelve-thirty on Saturday? That's not too early for you."_  

"Perfect." He hesitated at the end of an aisle, trying to work out where he needed to go next. "I'll see you on Saturday." 

_"Any luck with the writing?"_  

"Not yet. Something will come to me, it just takes time." He shrugged, steering the cart down another aisle. "I might have a couple of ideas soon. We'll talk more about it on Saturday when I can run a few things by you." He was about to bring the conversation to an end when he realised he hadn't asked about _her_. "How are things with you?" 

_"I can't complain. There are a few things I have to tell you, but I want to do it face-to-face, so it'll have to wait until Saturday._ " There was a pause, and then she was back. _"Sorry,_ _Logan_ _. I've got to go – my next class is about to start. See you on Saturday!"_  

"Bye, 'Ro." Logan hung up, still smiling, and he slipped his phone into his pocket. He took his eyes off where he was going for five seconds – and his cart rammed into someone else's. "Shit. Sorry." He glanced up, and froze as he recognised the person he'd run into. 

"No that's… oh, hey Logan!" Scott beamed at him from the other side of the cart, and Logan suppressed a groan. Scott and his friends had moved out after a couple of years as their jobs took them elsewhere, and Logan had been partially glad to see them go. Scott had picked up on his depression after Remy had gone, and semi-accurately assumed it had something to do with a break-up. After a few months, Scott had started making a play for him again, which Logan really hadn't appreciated. 

"Oh. Hi Scott." He forced a smile onto his face, and began thinking of ways to get out of talking to him. "How's it going?" 

"Not too bad, actually." Scott leant on his cart casually, flipping hair out of his eyes as he did so. He'd let his hair grow out a bit more, and it had that kind of lazy flop Logan saw in those teen boybands that were always being forced onto his TV screen when he didn't want them to be. "Still living in that big old house of yours?" 

"Well if I'm not then I've been breaking and entering for the past fifteen years." Scott laughed at that, and Logan took that moment to glance around for any inspiration on how to get out of this conversation. 

"I've recently moved back – not to the same area, but I've got myself an apartment a few blocks away. Maybe we'll run into each other more often, huh?" There was a distinct look in Scott's eyes that made Logan's skin crawl. _Jeez, does this guy just not get the hint?_  

"Better hope I'm not in my truck next time." He murmured before he could stop himself. Luckily, Scott took that as another joke, and laughed. "Anyway, uh… nice catching up, but I've gotta be getting on. Gotta get this done quick, 'cause I've gotta be somewhere soon." He steered his cart around Scott, attempting to make a break for his only exit. 

"Yeah, sure. I'll catch you later, Logan." Scott moved as if to touch his arm, and so Logan sped up his pace so he wouldn't be able to. He quickly ducked around into another aisle and pulled his cart to a stop, and sighed. Just when he thought he was truly rid of the guy, he goes and shows up again. Wonderful. 

He hurried through the rest of his shopping just in case Scott got the idea in his head to follow him around, and then he loaded up his truck and turned in the direction of home. By the time he got back and packed everything away, he'd decided he needed a run – he needed to clear his head and get the peace he could only achieve whilst running, and maybe he'd find some inspiration along the way. He changed into his running gear, grabbed the iPod he'd caved and bought ten years back, and headed out the door for the second time. 

\-- 

Running didn't give him inspiration, but it did clear his head.

He paused outside the park as he usually did, and went to grab his first drink of water – and realised with a groan that he'd forgotten to pick up his water bottle on his way out. Of course. He'd set it down as he'd switched on his iPod, and he hadn't picked it back up again. Brilliant. 

Dragging a hand through his hair, he turned on the spot and his eyes found one of the many coffee shops littered across town. Well, he needed to keep hydrated and he'd usually sit for five or ten minutes anyway, so it was as good as anything. Letting his headphones slip down to rest around his neck, he jogged across the street and stepped into the coffee shop. 

He intended to just grab a bottle of water and find a table he could sit at for a few minutes, but in the end he found himself sat on a plush sofa with an iced orange-flavoured drink instead, remembering why he rarely went into coffee shops at all. Still, he had a cold drink and he was comfortable, so nothing else mattered for the moment. Besides – coffee shops were full of all sorts of people, and inspiration could strike anytime, anywhere. 

Ten minutes later, he tossed his empty cup in the trash, running a couple of ideas through his head, and he stepped out onto the street ready to continue his run. Distracted with thoughts of potential ideas and with fussing with his headphones, Logan wasn't looking where he was going – and as he turned the corner, he slammed hard into another person. 

"Ah, shit… sorry." He murmured, wondering if this was going to be a common occurrence today, and he took a step back as he checked if the person he'd run into was okay. It was a young man, as far as Logan could tell – his face was hidden as he bent to pick up the bag he'd dropped during the impact. "Wasn't looking where I was going." 

"Non, non. It's my fault." The accent rendered Logan speechless. That smooth New Orleans drawl, and the touches of French… grief threatened to grip his heart, as it did every year when he made the trip south. "I was too busy wit' my book…" 

"Here, let me help…" Logan hoped his voice didn't shake, or tremble, or betray him in any way. His annual trips to New Orleans shook him, but he was always prepared for the familiar accent, the familiar use of language. This had taken him completely by surprise, and he wasn't ready for it. He told himself it was just an accent. Lots of people had the Cajun accent. He bent and picked up the book that had also fallen during the collision, and he dusted it off as they both straightened. 

When the young man lifted his head, Logan could have sworn his heart actually stopped. 

The eyes were different – soft grey rather than red-on-black – and the hair was a touch more rust than coppery-auburn, but the face was the same, and the smile was almost identical. _Remy_. The kid looked just like Remy, enough to have Logan's mind racing. When the kid slowly gained a look of disbelief in his eyes, Logan entertained a fleeting thought that perhaps this _was_ Remy, come back to him in a living body – but that was crazy, wasn't it? 

"Are you… yo' Logan Howlett, non?" Or was it crazy? Logan nodded, still too stunned to speak, and the kid grinned so brightly that Logan had to hold back tears. _That was his Remy's grin, the one he used when he was truly happy_. "Dis is incredible…" The kid took a step forward, and tapped at the book Logan still held in his hands. Slowly, Logan cast his gaze down, and felt his hopes get crushed in one sharp, painful motion. 

It wasn't Remy. Of course it wasn't. That was stupid. The kid just happened to look like him – and he only knew his name because it was _his_ book he'd been reading. The last book he'd written for James. The book where James had fallen in love with a Cajun ghost and had his heart torn to shreds in the final chapter. 

"Oh. Yeah, that's me." He forced a smile onto his face, but he didn't look up. He couldn't. If he saw that familiar face again, he didn't trust himself not to break. 

"You probably get dis all de time, but, well…" The kid – although 'kid' wasn't exactly accurate when he was at least in his early twenties – rummaged in his bag, and produced a black pen. "Do you mind? I'm a big fan?" 

"Sure, sure." Logan took the pen, focusing on the differences between this kid and Remy. No third person. It wasn't his Remy. It was just a kid with his face and his voice. He flipped the book open, his chest tightening painfully as his eyes found the dedication scrawled upon the first page. _For my Cajun, who filled an emptiness I didn't know I had_. He swallowed thickly. "Uh… what's… what's your name, kid?" 

"Remy." The pen froze on the page, and Logan actually felt his blood run cold. "Dat's wit' a 'y', not wit' an 'I'." Logan hurriedly scrawled a message and signed beneath it. "Great, t'anks!" He stepped forward, hovering over Logan as he read the message. "I've read all yo' books. My Papa gave de first one to me when I was jus' ten. Dis one is my favourite, t'ough. Guess you can figure why, eh?" Logan nodded, but he was hardly paying any attention. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was putting two and two together, and it wouldn't be long before he made four. 

"Thanks." He muttered, realising he probably needed to say something to not seem rude. 

"You really know how to tug at de heartstrings, eh?" Remy laughed, and Logan flinched because that was how _his_ Remy had laughed. He went to snap the book closed to hand it back, but his eyes were drawn to the inside cover, where a name had been scrawled in elegant handwriting. _Property of Remy E. LeBeau_. 

"Remy LeBeau?" He'd probably interrupted him, but he didn't care. He'd finally made four. "That's your name?" 

"Ah, oui." Remy swept hair out of his face as he took the book back from Logan. "I don' usually like to write inside books, but… I take dis one everywhere an' I'd hate fo' it to get lost or stolen or somet'in'. Not dat a name would really stop someone, but y'know…" He trailed off, noticing that something wasn't quite right with Logan. "Ey, you okay?" 

"You're named after your brother." Remy blinked, and then grinned. 

"Oui. Guess yo' figured it out den, eh?" He ran his fingers through his hair – shorter than Remy had kept it, Logan noted – and shrugged. "Papa said dat I migh' find you here. I didn' believe him at first when he said dat de famous Logan Howlett was a friend o' de family, but den he told me how you were close wit' my brot'er – de firs' Remy, de one who died befo' I was born." 

"Close." Logan repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Yeah. We were close." He hadn't wanted to meet this kid. He'd never wanted to see him, hear him speak, and it was for exactly this reason. He would be too similar, too much like the Remy he'd loved, although he'd never imagined he'd even _look_ this similar. 

"I am a fan, t'ough. A huge fan." Remy went on, tucking the book into his bag. "So much dat I want to write novels too one day, or somet'in' like dat. I'm studyin' English at college here." Logan wanted to search for a way out, something he could say or do to excuse himself so he could run as far from this kid as possible, but he couldn't. This was Jean-Luc's kid, Remy's brother, and it was clear that he'd been hoping to run into him at some point – and the last thing he wanted to do was see that heartbreaking look of disappointment on that familiar face. "Say, uh… I know dis migh' sound a bit weird, an' feel free to say no, but… I was kinda hopin' dat if I saw you den maybe you could answer some questions?" 

"What… what kind of questions?" Logan asked, although he already knew the answer. Still, part of him hoped he'd say it was to do with novel-writing and not the brother he never got to know. 

"Well… 'bout my brot'er." Well, it had been a long shot anyway. "See, Papa told me some stuff, an' Mikael filled in some ot'er t'ings, but neit'er o' dem really like talkin' 'bout him 'cause it hurts still, so I was t'inkin'… since you were his friend, maybe you could help?" Remy looked so hopeful that Logan knew straight away he couldn't bring himself to refuse. "I tried askin' Henri, but he gets upset, so I try not to bring it up too much." 

"I… I guess I could." Logan sighed, knowing he'd regret it later. But the smile that spread across Remy's face was worth it, and besides… he missed _his_ Remy. Maybe talking about him, and being around someone so much like him, would ease some of that loss for a short period of time. 

Or it could make it ten times worse, but he was willing to take that risk. 

"Really?" Remy's grin exploded across his face like the goddamn sun, and Logan found himself unintentionally smiling back. "Great! Uh… I have classes most days, but… maybe we could meet fo' coffee one day?" 

"Sounds… good, yeah. Uh." Logan fished in his pocket for the receipt he received at the coffee shop, and scrawled down his number with the pen he still held. "That's my number. Uh, just… give me a call or something." 

"T'anks." Remy took the number, and slipped it into his pocket. "I'll do dat. I gotta run, 'cause I got a class in half an hour." He glanced at the time, and flashed Logan another grin. "I'll call you tomorrow!" Before Logan could respond, Remy darted around him, and ran to catch a bus that was just turning the corner. Logan turned, watching him go, and sighed. 

He recognised the pain that had settled in his chest. 

This was going to hurt. 

\-- 

He called up Jean-Luc as soon as he got back to the house. He rarely called like this, but they'd given him the number for a reason, and so he was making use of it. When someone answered, Logan recognised the softer tones of Mikael's voice. 

"Mikael? Hey, uh… it's Logan." 

_"Ah,_ _Logan_ _. Dis is a surprise."_ Mikael's voice always seemed so gentle to his ears, especially when he compared it to his own, but he knew that the soft voice concealed a fierce personality. _"What do I owe de pleasure?"_  

"Uh, I need to speak with Jean-Luc, really… it's… it's about Remy." He paused, and then realised he'd have to be specific. "The second one." 

_"Ah._ " The single word was enough of a response for Logan. Mikael had been expecting this call. _"I'll jus' fetch him fo' you._ " Logan heard Mikael call for him on the other end, and then there was silence. When the phone was picked up again, it was Jean-Luc's voice on the other end. 

"You could have told me, Jean-Luc." His voice didn't come out as irked as he would have liked, but he was too emotionally exhausted to care. 

_"Oui, I could have. But dere was no way o' knowin' if he'd find you, an' what good would it have done if you'd known he was dere, eh?"_  

"Oh I don't know, maybe I wouldn't run straight into him and nearly lose control because there's a goddamn _clone_ in front of me." A bit of fight inched into his voice, but he sounded more tired than anything else. "You didn't tell me he looked like him." 

_"You never asked,_ _Logan_ _. You never dropped by de house, never asked to see a photo. You asked how he was, if t'ings were okay, but you never wanted to know him."_ There was a pause, and Logan went to argue, but Jean-Luc cut him off. _"I'm not holdin' dat against you, don' get me wrong,_ _Logan_ _. I know exactly why, an' dat's why I didn' push fo' you to come by here an' meet him. It hasn' exactly been easy fo' us, eit'er."_  

"I know…" Logan sighed. "I'm not mad, not really. I just… god, it threw me, so much. He even… shit, he even laughs like Remy used to." 

_"Oui, dey're very alike. He was captain o' de basketball team, jus' like Remy. He loves de colour pink, an' he loves to dance, an' he makes friends wit' anyone who smiles at him. It's like havin' him back again. I should have told you, oui. I didn' t'ink he'd actually find you."_  

"Well, he did. By chance, but… guess that's just how things go with me." Logan dragged a hand through his hair. "He asked if I'd tell him about Remy. I said I'd do it. I don't know why, when I know it's just going to hurt, but…" 

_"But you couldn' say no? Oui. I understand dat."_ Jean-Luc sighed on the other end, and Logan actually gave a sympathetic smile at the sound. It would hurt for him, but it would have hurt even more for the two men who had raised the kid who looked, sounded and acted just like the son they'd lost. _"He's a good kid, Logan, an' he's only dere fo' anot'er year. If you can stand it, dat's all you'll need to deal wit'. If not… he'll understand if it's too much. He cares, an' he won' be hurt if you ask him to stop."_  

"Yeah, I can see that already. He's just like Remy." And that was just the problem. 

After he ended the call with Jean-Luc, Logan went back up to his office and sat down at his desk, but he didn't boot up the laptop. Instead, he unlocked the drawer in his desk and opened it, reaching in to pull out the photograph he kept inside. He touched his fingertips to Remy's smiling face, and remembered how Remy had held this photograph close to his chest and asked Logan to take it home for him. 

For the first year, he'd let it sit on his desk where he could see it, but then he'd locked it away in a drawer and only let himself look at it when he needed a reminder of that happy, perfect boy Remy had been. 

"God, I fucking miss you, Rem…" He sighed, letting his gaze linger on those unique eyes for a moment longer before he tucked the photograph back in his drawer. "I really fucking miss you."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan's falling fast, and it terrifies him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a chapter or two left guys, and possibly an epilogue if the plot calls for one.

To say he was nervous would be the understatement of the year. 

He'd picked a table fairly close to the door, mostly because he was worried it would be too much and he'd need a fast exit before he embarrassed himself in public, but also because he figured he'd be able to spot the kid the second he turned up. He could have cancelled. He could have declined. 

But when he'd picked up the phone and heard that smooth, New Orleans drawl, his heart won over his head – and now he was sat in a coffee shop not far from the college campus, waiting for the young man who looked like his Remy. His mouth was dry despite the coffee he'd been chugging back for the past five minutes, and he was still struggling to convince himself that everything would be fine. He'd ask about Remy, Logan would tell him what he wanted to hear, and then he wouldn't have to see the kid ever again. 

It was a solid plan. 

He glanced at the time, and felt his stomach twist in knots. It was almost the agreed time, which meant he'd be here any minute. He could still leave – just get up and go and send a text to say he'd been called away last minute. He could make it sound apologetic, and even throw in a promise to reschedule, even though he'd probably have no intention of doing so. He downed the rest of his coffee, actually considering making a run for the door. 

But then Remy stepped through, and smiled brightly when he turned and saw Logan.

As he approached, Logan studied him, seeking out the differences between this Remy and the Remy he'd fallen in love with. If he could separate them, this would be easier. The young man wore a Star Trek t-shirt, the design faded enough to suggest it was a favourite or several years old, and loose jeans with rips in the knees – nothing like the smart shirt, waistcoat and slim-fitting jeans _his_ Remy had worn. The hair was shorter, he reminded himself. Shorter and not quite the same colour, and he wouldn't be looking into red-and-black eyes when they talked. As Remy slid into the seat opposite, Logan also made note of the slight scruff that lined his jaw – and his Remy had been clean-shaven, at least on the night that he'd died. 

"T'anks fo' meetin' me, Logan." Remy grinned. 

"No, uh… that's okay." He managed a smile, and he paused as Remy ordered himself a drink – and Logan decided he'd need another coffee if he was going to go through with this. As soon as they had their drinks, he prepared himself for the first question. 

"How's writin' going?" Remy grinned, taking a sip of his sugar-coma-in-a-glass. Logan blinked, surprised, and actually had to think about the question first. 

"Uh. Alright, I guess…" Well, that was a lie. "Actually, I'm pretty stumped for what to write at the moment." He shrugged. "Writer's block. It happens." 

"Damn. I was hopin' we'd be seein' anot'er book o' yo's on de shelves soon." Remy laughed. "I've missed yo' writin'." 

"Well… we'll see." He shrugged again. "So, uh… you wanted to ask me some questions?" He felt a little rude cutting the small talk short, but he wanted this to be over as soon as possible. Even with the differences, it was still too painful to be sat across the table from the image of the man he'd given his heart to. 

"Oh, right. Yeah." Remy rummaged in his bag and drew out a notebook. "Sorry, I wrote down all de t'ings I wanted to know after I ran into you. Didn' wanna fo'get anyt'in', y'know?" He grinned as he flipped it open, and hurriedly flicked through the pages to find the one he wanted. "I guess… de firs' place to start is, well… what was he like?" 

"A pain in the ass." Logan murmured without thinking. When Remy stared at him in surprise, he smiled. "Sorry. That was just my first impression of him. And my last, if I'm honest. He was annoying, frustrating, and liked to piss me off. He'd bother me when I was working, he'd sing obnoxiously whenever I tried to shower, and he'd throw things at me knowing I c- … knowing I wouldn't throw them back." He paused, his smile growing fonder without him really noticing. "And if I'm honest, that's what I miss the most." 

"My papa said Remy lived wit' you fo' a while." Remy put in, and Logan nodded. 

"Yeah, guess he did." He sighed a little. "That guy had no concept of personal space, let me tell you. But still… it was nice. See the thing about Remy – uh, your brother I mean – is that he craved physical contact. He loved to be touched, to be close to someone. So even though he pissed me off half the time, I put up with him curling up next to me on the sofa, draping his legs across mine, because I knew he needed it." 

"And 'cause you loved him." The statement cut deep, and he actually winced a little. "I'm sorry, I shouldn' have-," 

"No." Logan cut him off. "No, it's okay. You're right. I loved him. A lot. See before Remy I didn't really have much experience with love. I cared for people, I'd had relationships, but… I'd never loved anyone. Not before Remy. I didn't think I could." He smiled again as he thought about it. "And then Remy came along and I was in love before I even knew what was happening." He paused to drink, and to gather his thoughts. He had to watch what he said, of course – as far as he knew, this kid had no idea that Remy had already been dead when he'd met him. "He was still a pain in the ass, don't get me wrong, but… he was _mine_ , y'know? And he had such a kind heart underneath all the sass." 

"People always said dat Remy was de nicest boy dey knew. Haven' really heard a word against him." Remy toyed with the straw in his drink. "Even when it came down to de Boudreaux family an' de t'ings dat happened between dem." 

"Everybody loved him, and those who didn't were wrong not to." Logan's smile grew – even if it hurt, thinking about Remy could still bring him happiness. "I don't know much about you, and I know I've only spoken to you twice now, but… you do remind me of him in that sense. You seem like a good kid." 

"I try." Remy shrugged. "I t'ought it might be difficult, y'know? Named after my brot'er like dat, even down to de middle name… gotta live up to it. But even t'ough we look alike an' share a name, Papa an' Mikael never expected me to be anyone but who I am. Guess it's jus' fate itself dat made it so I was so much like Remy anyway." 

"Fate, huh? You believe in that?" Despite his concerns and earlier nervousness, Logan was actually feeling himself relax around this kid, and it wasn't proving to be as difficult as he'd expected.

"Guess so." Remy shrugged again. "Papa an' Mikael, dey believe in lots o' stuff. Well… dey don' disregard somet'in' jus' cause it sounds bizarre. Dey raised me to follow dat line o' t'inkin' – dat anyt'in' is possible, so never say somet'in' don' exist or can' happen unless you know it fo' certain."

"Yeah, they're pretty open." Logan murmured, remembering how easily they'd accepted that Remy was a ghost and that he could talk to him. "I think that's a good way to live." 

"I got teased once or twice in school 'cause I said dat ghosts an' t'ings could exist, but I didn' care. After all, we got no solid proof dat dere's jus' one single God up dere an' dat he's responsible fo' everyt'in' dat happens, so why de hell should people deny de existence o' life after deat' jus' cause dere's no solid proof?" Remy grinned now, leaning further into the table. "I was asked to be on de debate team in high school 'cause I knew how to argue. Mikael said I get dat from Papa, an' dat Remy was de same." 

"Well, he certainly had a mouth on him." Logan agreed, and surprised himself by laughing when Remy did. "Loved to hear himself talk, more than anything." He shook his head a little, still smiling. "He could talk the legs off a donkey if he wanted to." 

"I'm de same, I guess. At least once I get talkin' 'bout somet'in' I love, or am fascinated by. Pretty sure I chased off a couple o' boyfriends 'cause I got into talkin' 'bout science or somet'in' an' completely lost dem." Remy laughed again, and Logan raised his eyebrows at casual mention of boyfriends. Well, maybe he had that in common with Remy, too. He wasn't surprised, exactly – after all, the kid had been raised by two men who had long ago promised themselves to each other, and had taught him to have an open and accepting mind. 

Not that he thought being raised by non-heterosexual parents had anything to do with the kid's sexuality, of course, but he knew that their accepting outlook on life would definitely have passed on to the son. 

"If they can't love you for all your quirks, they're not worth your time." He found himself saying, and he surprised himself again by reaching across the table to lightly pat Remy's arm. "No one understands that as much as me." 

"Well, yo' a writer. O' course you got quirks." Remy teased. He glanced down at his notebook for a moment, at the elegant handwriting that listed the things he wanted to know, and then he folded it up and put it away. "I found out a lot 'bout Remy jus' from internet searches, an' from people back home who were happy to talk 'bout him. I guess… I guess I was usin' dat as an excuse, really, to talk to you. I mean, I wanna know everyt'in' dat I can, especially from someone who was as close to him as you were, but at de same time… I guess I jus' wanna know de man who could o' been my brot'er in law one day." 

"Your…" His breath caught in his throat, and he felt tears sting the back of his eyes rather unexpectedly. The kid couldn't have known about the words he'd exchanged with Remy only moments before he'd passed on, he couldn't have known about the whispered vows and the kiss that had sealed their 'marriage'. Logan hadn't told anyone about that, not even Ororo. 

"Papa said dat de way you two were wit' each ot'er, he wouldn' have been surprised if you'd married one day." Remy explained. "Makes me wish even more dat Remy didn' die, so dat it could have happened. T'ough maybe if he hadn', den I wouldn' be here…" He trailed off, losing himself in his thoughts as he considered that possibility. Logan took that moment to gather himself, and force back the grief that had come back full force.

"We intended to." He told himself to stop talking, to change the subject or make a joke, but his voice wouldn't obey. "Remy and I, we… we intended to get married. We'd talked about it, but we hadn't told anyone." It wasn't exactly a lie, but he knew he couldn't tell him the truth. 

"Oh." Remy reached over the table, and covered Logan's hand with his. His touch was warm, and gentle, but Logan couldn't help but wish his skin felt cooler, like Remy's had. "I'm sorry. I'm jus' draggin' dis all back fo' you, ain' I? You don' have to do dis, Logan. I'd understand if it was too much." 

"No, no… it's okay." He offered him a smile, but it was weak. "You know, I think they'd have had you anyway. Remy knew they wanted another kid in the house, and… well, we were a long way from thinking about anything like that. You might not have had his name, but you'd still be in this family." 

"You t'ink?" Remy grinned, and Logan nodded. "Yeah, I t'ink yo' right. So, you t'ink you an' Remy would have adopted kids or somet'in'?" 

"Maybe." Logan could lose himself in the lie he'd created for himself during those first few months. The lie where Remy had never died, where they'd met when he was alive and they had a future together – the lie where they'd had a proper ceremony, where he shared Remy's name, and where thoughts of children were in their future. "We both wanted them. If not adoption we'd have looked into surrogacy or something along those lines. I guess part of me just wanted to have children with that gorgeous coppery hair." 

"Y'know, if it was possible, de two o' you would have produced some really gorgeous kids." Remy laughed a little. Logan, for the third time so far, surprised himself by almost blushing at the compliment. "Hey, uh… I gotta get back to class soon, but… maybe I could see you again?" 

Say no, Logan, he told himself. Politely put him down and tell him you can't see him again. Tell him it's too much, that just looking at him hurts. Tell him that you can't be near him because you're afraid you'll start looking at him as _your_ Remy, and you don't know what that'll do to your feelings towards him. Tell him you can't risk falling in love with a ghost for a second time. 

"That'd be nice, yeah." 

_God-fucking-damnit,_ _Logan_ _._  

\-- 

He was in trouble. Again. 

Three weeks. Three weeks of coffee breaks and walks in the park and hell, he'd even cooked the damn kid _dinner_ one evening. Three weeks of comfortable conversation that didn't always revolve around Remy or what had happened in the past, but instead stretched out to encompass writing, tastes in movies and music, and motorcycles after Remy had swung by his house when he was cleaning his bike in the front yard. Three weeks of bright smiles, brighter grins, and laughter that warmed his heart. 

Oh yeah, he was in trouble. 

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't Remy, it wasn't the man he'd loved and lost, and that he was just confused, but what scared him the most was the fact that he knew that wasn't the whole reason behind it. Yes, the root of it came down to Remy looking exactly like the brother he was named for, and talking like him, and acting like him – but he'd successfully separated them in his head now. 

And that meant he was falling for Remy the Second – as he'd taken to referring to him – all on his own. 

Big, big trouble. 

He'd have to cut off contact with him. He couldn't let this go any further, before he did something he might later regret. The kid was only twenty, for god's sake. He was over _twice_ the kid's age, and it would just be… weird. Even if there wasn't the twenty-four year age difference, the connection he had with the previous Remy… it would be too weird. It didn't matter that he had a feeling Remy the Second was flirting with him whenever possible, or that maybe he was finding any excuse to spend time with him. It had to stop. He'd call him up, and somehow tell him that they couldn't see each other anymore. 

He frowned when someone knocked on the front door, and a quick glance at the time told him it was far too late for a social call. Cautious, he walked through to the hall and opened the door just enough to see around it – and then he threw it wide open when he registered the shaking, shivering young man on his doorstep. Remy was trembling, soaked through from the rain that had been falling for about two hours now, and he looked far too pale – save for the bruise that was already forming over one eye. 

"God, Remy, what… are you okay?" He quickly ushered him inside, closing the door on the foul weather outside. "What are you doing here?" 

"I was studyin' late in de library." Remy sniffled a little, and Logan guided him through to the living room. "Was walkin' home when dese jerks decided it'd be fun to fuck wit' me. Dey were drunk, I t'ink, but dere were too many. One o' dem got a couple o' swings in befo' I could get my head straight enough to fight back. Dey were cuttin' off my route back to de dorms so when I started runnin' I jus'… I jus' kept goin', an' den realised I was close to yo' neighbourhood." 

"They attacked you?" He gently nudged him down onto the sofa, realising now that the trembling wasn't just from the cold. 

"Oui. A couple o' students have been attacked over de past week, but in ot'er parts o' de campus. I figured I'd be fine, 'cause de ot'ers have all been female, but… guess not, eh?" He laughed a little, but it sounded forced. "Sorry. I don' mean to disturb you dis late, but-," 

"No, no I'm glad you did." He studied him for a minute, and then sighed. "Look you can't sit there soaked through like that, or you'll get sick. Let me go grab some stuff for you to change into." Remy went to protest, but Logan ignored him and hurried upstairs. He grabbed one of his t-shirts and a pair of drawstring trousers since he figured anything else would be too big on him, and snagged a towel along the way for good measure. "Here," he said when he returned to him, holding them out, "towel yourself down and change into these. I'm gonna make some cocoa to help warm you up, and then I'm gonna take a look at that eye." He left Remy with the clothes, stepping into the kitchen and closing the door to give him some privacy. There was no way he was letting that kid go home tonight, not in that state. He'd make up the sofa or one of the spare rooms, and the kid could have his bed. He lingered for as long as possible before he slowly opened the door and carried the cocoa through – and thankfully Remy was curled up on the sofa in the dry clothes, the towel draped around his neck. Some of the trembling had eased off, which he was pleased to see. 

"You didn' have to do dis, Logan." Remy smiled as he took the cocoa from him. 

"Bullshit." Logan smiled back at him, picking up the wet clothes and moving to hang them up somewhere so they'd dry. "You've been attacked, Remy. I'd much rather you come here, where you're safe." He sat down beside him, and gently reached out to cup his chin. "Now let's take a look at this." He leant in a little, tilting Remy's head to get a better look at the bruising. "Doesn't look too bad, but I bet it hurts like hell." 

"It ain' exactly kitten kisses, non." Remy murmured. Logan nodded, and went to fetch an icepack. "I got one o' dem back, by de way. Papa taught me how to defend myself." 

"Good." He gently pressed the icepack to Remy's face, feeling a slight stab of guilt when he hissed in pain. "We should call the police, get it reported. Ah… you can stay here, if you want to. Or I could drive you back to campus?" 

"Actually…" Remy sipped his cocoa, one hand keeping the icepack in place as Logan pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Stayin' here sounds nice. If dat's really okay. I wouldn' want to intrude or not'in'." 

"Honestly I'd feel better if you were here." Logan admitted, preparing to dial for the police. Remy set down his cocoa and then placed his hand on Logan's arm. 

"Can we do dat tomorrow? Firs' t'ing in de mornin'?" He asked, his eyes pleading. Logan hesitated – he wanted those assholes to pay for what they'd done, but he could see that Remy was still shaken up by the incident. 

"… yeah, okay. That's probably better." He nodded, setting his phone down again. "I'll take you to the station in the morning." When Remy continued to shiver, he threw all caution to the wind, and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer. "Just relax, now. Relax and get warmed up." 

"T'ank you, Logan." He smiled, leaning into Logan gratefully. "I'm glad dat yo' my friend." Logan said nothing, too worried his voice would betray him, and simply stroked a hand up and down Remy's arm in a soothing gesture, resisting the urge to kiss his hair. After several minutes, he felt Remy's trembling ease off completely, and he smiled.

"Hey, uh… you wanna watch a movie or something?" 

"Dat sounds good, oui." Remy grinned, and Logan was so thankful to see him smile. He got up to put on a movie, realising he'd picked one of _his_ Remy's favourites, and after only a moment's hesitation he went and made up some popcorn, too. He set the bowl down as he returned, and then got comfortable on the sofa once again. When Remy curled into him, he automatically lifted his arm to let him get closer. 

This was dangerous, but Logan didn't care. 

At some point during the film, Remy fell asleep. Logan put it down to the mental exhaustion of the attack, and the physical exhaustion of having to run all the way here from the college campus. He switched off the TV and put the nearly empty bowl of popcorn to one side, and he very carefully extracted himself from Remy's grasp so he could stand up. He knew, and had known from the second he'd seen Remy sleeping against him, that he wasn't going to wake him up. Very gently, he lifted the young man into his arms, smiling when Remy shifted and murmured something in his sleep, curling against his chest. 

"It's okay, Rem." He murmured as he started for the stairs. "I'm right here." He carried him through to his bedroom and gently set him down on the bed, pulling the blankets up over him. "You just sleep now, alright? We'll sort this in the morning." As he turned, intending to leave him there, Remy's fingers curled around his wrist. 

"Logan?" Shit. He wasn't supposed to wake up. He turned, ready to apologise for disturbing him. "Will you stay?" He couldn't. He _shouldn't_. But in the dark those soft grey eyes looked almost like his Remy's, and even if they hadn't he knew he couldn't say no. 

"Yeah. I'll stay." He whispered back, sliding into the bed beside him as Remy shuffled over to make room. He knew he should leave right now, curl up on the sofa in his office or in the lounge, and just get as far from this kid as he could. He couldn't let himself give Remy the wrong impression. 

But when Remy curled against him, one arm loosely draped across his middle, and the head of coppery hair came to rest on his shoulder, Logan ignored his head, and went with his heart. He wrapped his arms around him tightly, drawing him in even closer, and he pressed a kiss to his forehead as he bid him goodnight. 

\-- 

When he turned in the bed the next morning, and saw coppery hair and tan skin beside him, he believed for a moment that Remy passing on had only been a nightmare – but Remy, his Remy, couldn't sleep. He didn't even pretend to. Remy stirred, and his eyes opened, a sleepy smile immediately stretching across his face as his eyes focused on Logan. The arm still draped over Logan's body moved, and slender fingers stroked up his chest until his hand rested over Logan's heart. 

"Mornin'." He murmured, voice thick with sleep. He shifted, his legs tangling with Logan's, and Logan felt his heart race as he pressed closer against him. He slid a hand up Remy's back, his fingers sliding up into soft hair, and he felt his mouth go dry as Remy licked his lips. Their foreheads touched for a moment, and then Remy's nose brushed against his, their eyes meeting in an intense gaze. He could feel Remy's breath against his cheek as he moved in even closer – and their lips just barely grazed each other before he pushed himself away, and forced himself to get up. 

"Oh god. I…" He stood, dragging a hand through his hair, his stomach twisting into knots as his heart hammered in his chest. "I'm sorry. I can't… I can't do this." 

"Logan?" Remy sat up, and Logan risked glancing back at him. God, the kid looked devastated. "Sorry, I jus'… I t'ought dat…" And now he looked guilty as hell. _Fuck_. 

"God…" Logan sighed, pressing his hands to his face for a moment. "God this is fucked up." He realised at the last second how insulting that could sound, and so he lifted his head and turned to him. "I'm twenty-four years older than you. Twenty-four, Remy. And that's not even taking into account the fact I was romantically involved with-," 

"Wit' my brot'er." Remy finished for him. "Who I look jus' like." Logan wished he wouldn't sound so heartbroken, so disappointed. It was his fault, of course. He should have put a stop to this sooner. He shouldn't have let himself get to close to him. 

"I'm sorry, Rem, I… this can't happen, okay?" God, he just hoped the kid didn't cry. He wouldn't be able to stand it if the kid cried. "I can't do this again. I can't… I can't fall in love again." 

"Bullshit." Remy murmured, surprising him. "Yo' jus' too scared to. Who cares dat yo' older dan me? I don'. Dat's jus' an excuse – an' yeah as excuses go, it's a fairly good one, but… it's still bullshit." He threw back the blankets and perched on the edge of the bed. "An' yeah, I look jus' like him. I talk like him, an' I act like him. We're so alike dat I could be confused fo' him quite easily. But…" 

"You're not him, I know." Logan admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. "I know you're not him. But that's… that's the problem, Rem. I don't know if I'm feeling what I'm feeling because of you, or… because of him. And if it's because of him then I can't do that to you. I can't hurt you like that, lie to you like that. It wouldn't be right, and it damn well wouldn't be fair to you." He turned away, knowing if he met those eyes he'd break. "You should be with someone your age, someone who doesn't have a history like mine. You need to… you need to go. You need to forget about me. Just think of me as the author you've admired in the past. I can't be anything more to you." 

"You can' know until you try." He turned, startled by the fact Remy had crept up behind him without him knowing. "I know dat yo' worried dat you only care 'bout me 'cause o' him, but what if dat's not de reason, Logan? What if it's jus' me?" He shook his head when Logan went to speak. "You'll always love him. I know dat. I'd never want dat to change. Hell it ain' like I came to find you so I could get you ta fall in love wit' me or not'in'. I'm not even sayin' dat's what will happen. But I do feel somet'in' fo' you, Logan, an' I can' let you walk away wit'out even tryin'." 

"Rem, you don't understand. I fell in love, and I fell hard, and then he _died_ and left me here alone to deal with that. It's been twenty years and I still can't look at a photograph of him without that loss coming back to slap me in the face. I can't look at him without hurting." Even though he tried not to, his hands came up to gently frame Remy's face. "I've tried to stay away from you, I have. I told myself every time we met up that this would be the last time, that I'd cut off contact and keep my distance, but it never happened. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Even when I spotted the signs, I didn't put a stop to it, and now you're hurt because of me." He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "You need to go now, Remy, because I can't love you." He didn't dare open his eyes, even when Remy stepped away from him. "You can't come back here again. I'm sorry." 

When he finally opened his eyes, Remy was gone. He heard hurried footsteps on the stairs, and his heart ached when he also picked up the sound of crying. Damn. He told himself to let him go, that he would hurt for now but in the long run he'd be better for it – but he knew that wasn't possible. In seconds he was following after him, hurrying through to the living room where he caught Remy in the middle of swapping Logan's clothes for his own. 

"Rem…" Remy turned and met his eyes, and Logan felt another stab of guilt at the tears in his eyes. 

"I'll be gone in a minute, I promise. Jus' gotta…" He turned his back on him, and yanked off the shirt Logan had given him, hands trembling as he tried to pull on the one he'd worn last night. Logan stepped forward, and wrapped his arms around him from behind, burying his face into his hair. 

"I'm sorry." He murmured, holding him tightly even though he made no move to shake him off. "You're right. I'm scared. I'm scared because the last time I let myself fall for someone he ended up being ripped from me too soon, and I'm still trying to heal from that. I'm scared because I don't want to find out a year down the line that it's only Remy I love, only Remy that I see in you, and have to break your heart." He paused, drew in a deep, shaky breath. "But I'm more scared that if I let myself love again then it'll be like Remy didn't matter to me." Remy turned in his arms now, his hands coming up to gently frame Logan's face. 

"He'll always matter to you, mon cher." He murmured, the affectionate term digging deep into Logan's heart. "An' he would want you to be happy, non? Dat's all he ever wanted fo' people. He wanted to make dem happy, he wanted everyone to be happy." Remy smiled, and despite the tears and the darkening bruise over one eye, Logan thought it was beautiful. "He'll always have yo' heart. I only ask dat you give dis Remy a chance at a small part o' it, too." 

Logan hesitated only for a moment before he leant in and kissed him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The relationship moves forward, and Logan discovers something that changes everything.

A month down the line, and Logan was getting used to having Remy around almost every day. He stayed over most nights now, disappearing off to classes in the morning, and dropping by once they were all over to watch movies or study whilst Logan worked. The more time Logan spent with him, the more things he began to pick up on. 

Like the way Remy sang under his breath whilst he studied, or how he'd drape himself over the back of Logan's chair as he read over his shoulder, how there was a constant need to touch him and be close to him. Or the way he danced when he cooked, and threw popcorn at him during movie nights, and hurriedly ducked away from him when he tried to swat at him in return. 

Everything he did reminded him of _his_ Remy, even more so than before. 

And yet… he knew this feeling. He knew it was love. It was like falling in love with Remy all over again, and it was wonderful. His Remy, his beloved Remy, would always be with him, there was no doubt about that, but this Remy… he could see himself being happy with him for a long time. Maybe forever – or, at least, their version of forever. 

They still hadn't told Jean-Luc and Mikael, and although Logan had let it slip to Ororo that he'd met someone, he hadn't told her who, and she hadn't pushed. He was thankful for that – he needed time to figure out how he was going to explain things to her. He knew it would seem very, very weird to someone who knew the whole story. But that was something he could worry about later. 

For now, he had a gorgeous young man stretched out beside him, and a paper to read through. 

"It's terrible, righ'?" Remy murmured, shifting slightly so he could peer up at Logan. The older man shook his head, bringing a hand up to run his fingers through coppery hair. 

"No, it's good." He smiled, looking away from the paper to glance down at him. Cuddling was still as far as they'd gotten with a physical relationship, although with varying degrees of half-nakedness. Logan had worried at first that it wouldn't be enough for Remy – after all, the kid was still young, and seemed to be as much like his namesake in that area as any other – but he hadn't pushed for anything more. He understood that it would take time, and that things would be slow. 

"You t'ink so? T'ink it's wort' an A?" Logan read through the rest of the paper, and then set it aside. 

"I don't know what your professor will think, but I'd say it's pretty damn good. I'd give it an A." He paused, and smirked. "But then I'm your boyfriend, so I think my opinion can't be trusted there." He grinned when Remy laughed, and he accepted the kiss Remy offered. 

"Yo' also a best-sellin' aut'or, which is who I was askin'." He settled back down against Logan's chest, and nuzzled into his neck. "But I'll trust you. I'll go over it again, make some changes here an' dere, an' den I'll hand it in." Logan tugged him closer, and kissed his hair. 

"You'll do great. You've got talent, and you're smart." And thinking about it, he had work of his own to get to. He still needed to come up with a new book idea, before his publisher started pestering him for it again. "Had any more thoughts on what you'll do when you finish college?" 

"Become a writer." Remy grinned up at him again. "Eit'er de route you took, wit' novel-writin', or start wit' some journalism style pieces an' den expand once I've got some experience." 

"That sounds smart." Logan nodded. "And you can always do your novel-writing around a paying job, which is what I did to start with. Then once your book hits off – which I know it will because bias aside you're damn good with words – you can focus on the next a little more, and it'll slowly build up until that's all you have to do." 

"Like you?" Remy's hand stroked up over his chest, and lips pressed to the line of his jaw. 

"I suppose." He smiled, let his fingers trail up and down Remy's back. "Though I'm not doing so good on the writing part lately." 

"Still got not'in' to write, eh?" Remy nuzzled closer, shifting until he lay almost entirely on top of him. 

"Nah." He sighed heavily. "It's just not coming to me. It will, eventually. Writer's block is a curse but we all get over it in time." Plus it didn't help that he still hadn't had any ghostly visitors to give him an extra boost of inspiration. He didn't know what was keeping them away, or if he'd lost his touch, but it was starting to have a negative effect on his creativity. It made him wonder if he'd ever had any talent, or if it had all come from the stories his spirits could tell him. 

"I'm sure you'll t'ink o' somet'in'." Remy smiled. "Yo' clever an' brilliant." He kissed him, slow and soft, and Logan rolled them until Remy was pressed beneath him. 

"I'm always suspicious when you flatter me, y'know." He murmured, smiling a little as he nuzzled him lovingly. "Makes me wonder what you want." 

"Can' I pay my boyfriend a compliment?" Remy laughed, prodding Logan's ribs sharply. "What makes you t'ink I want somet'in', eh?" 

"You always want something, Rem." He kissed him again, deeper this time, and Remy arched up into him in a way that was all too familiar to Logan. He pulled back, and stared down into those soft grey eyes. "And I'm not giving it to you, I know." 

"I don' need dat." Remy shook his head, pressing a finger to Logan's lips when he went to speak. "I don'. Sex ain' everyt'in'. I get to be close to you, an' dat's enough." 

"Excuse me if I find that hard to believe." Logan sighed, and Remy rolled his eyes. 

"I'm serious, Logan. Alrigh', sometimes I have to get a lil' hands-on in de shower…" he admitted with a sly grin, "-but dat's not de point. I know dat yo' still adjustin' to dis. I'm happy to wait fo' you, mon cher." 

"What if I told you it would never happen?" He wouldn't say that, of course. At least he thought he wouldn't, because damn if he was going to rest of his life without it. 

"Den I'd invest in a lot o' porn an' a lifetime's supply o' lotion." The blunt manner in which Remy spoke had Logan laughing, and Remy pulled him down for a kiss. "But seriously, Logan… if it came to dat, I wouldn' care. I want to be wit' you." 

"God, you're just…" Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Logan kissed him again, deep and slow, and when Remy pressed up into him again Logan rocked down to meet him. Remy broke the kiss with a moan, and he bit into his bottom lip as his hands clutched at Logan's back. 

"Logan, mon cher… I meant what I said, but if you keep dat up den I'm gon' need a few minutes in yo' shower." Logan didn't need to be told – he could feel it. 

"No." He murmured, nuzzling into his neck, before kissing along his throat. "You won't need to do that. Not again." 

"Logan…" Remy began to protest, but then Logan's hand slipped down between them, and he bucked up into his hand. "Mon dieu…" Logan smirked against his skin, and his fingers worked at removing the slim jeans Remy had put on that day. 

It was time. 

\-- 

"That feels like it should have been illegal." Logan murmured, sprawled on his back, sheets tangled around his legs. Remy laughed, propping himself up on one elbow, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Logan's chest. 

"Cher, not'in' dat feels dat good is legal." He leant down, nipped at Logan's jaw. "An' yet, it is." 

"Still." He hooked an arm around Remy's waist and pulled him down on top of him, grinning when Remy settled easily in place. "It's probably illegal somewhere." 

"Oh, almost certainly." Remy slid his fingers up into Logan's hair. "T'ankfully, not here." They kissed again, slow and lazy. "An' fo' de record… totally wort' waitin' fo'."

"Good." He slid a hand up Remy's spine, smiling when the younger man practically purred and nuzzled into his neck, probably content to fall asleep right there. Logan considered doing just that – but then his phone rang, and ruined all thoughts of sleep. "Damn. I better get that. It's probably my publisher." He scrambled for the phone, and groaned at the ID. "Ah, hell." 

"Publisher?" 

"No. Worse." He sighed. "Your dad." 

"What?" Remy lifted his head, surprised. "What's papa callin' you fo'?" 

"No idea, but I better find out." He answered the call, gesturing for Remy to keep quiet. "Jean-Luc. What do I owe the pleasure?" 

_"When did you plan on tellin' me dat yo' sleepin' wit' my son?"_ Oh. Shit. Remy, who could hear both sides of the conversation, winced. 

"I, ah-," 

_"Don' try an' lie to me, Logan."_  

"I wasn't going to. I know that's pointless." He sighed. "How did you know?" 

_"I called Remy's room to talk to him, an' his roommate picked up. Told me dat Remy spent most o' his time at his boyfriend's house dese days, an' said he's – an' I quote – 'some older guy who writes books'. Don' take a genius to put two an' two toget'er."_ Jean-Luc didn't sound angry, not really. A little pissed that he'd had to find out that way, maybe, but not angry in general. Or so Logan hoped. 

"We were going to tell you. We just… we didn't know how. We haven't really told anyone, at least none of the details." He glanced at Remy, who looked worried. "Remy didn't want you to find out like this. I guess all I can say is I'm sorry."

_"_ _Logan_ _… you gotta understand why I'm not entirely pleased 'bout dis."_  

"I know. And we'll talk about that later, I promise. But… just know this one thing, Jean-Luc." He smiled at Remy now, his free hand coming up to stroke through his hair. "I really care about him. I'd say about as much as I cared about Remy – uh… that is, the older Remy. I'm not messing him around or stringing him along for any other reason. I tried to push him away, actually, because I didn't want to hurt him." 

_"An' does he feel de same?"_  

"You'll have to ask him that, but I think so." Remy grinned, and leant in for a kiss. Logan held the phone away from his face just long enough to return it, and then he playfully pushed him away. "He's happy. I'd know if he wasn't." 

_"Well… we're gon' have a real long talk 'bout dis, but fo' now, dat's all I need to know. You know dis is complicated. If yo' jus' wit' him 'cause he's so much like-,"_  

"That's not why. I thought it might be, but it's not. I know that now." 

_"Good. I'd like to see dat fo' myself, but fo' now I'll take yo' word fo' it. Guess I can call Mikael off. He was ready to fly over an' do dis face-to-face. You t'ink I'm de one to worry 'bout? Non. Mikael's de one you gotta worry 'bout."_ Logan laughed a little, although he knew Jean-Luc wasn't joking. 

"Well you tell him that he can hunt me down if I ever hurt this kid, but that I'll probably have done significant damage to myself before he can." He paused. "You should really talk to your son about this, Jean-Luc. He was worried about how you'd react, not only because of the age difference but… well, you know why." 

_"I'll speak to him later den. You make sure he knows to answer his damn cellphone, oui?"_ Logan raised an eyebrow at Remy, who smiled sheepishly. 

"I'll let him know." 

_"Good. Well, until next time,_ _Logan_ _._ " 

"Yeah, bye." When Jean-Luc hung up, Logan dropped his phone down onto the bedside table, and groaned. "Well that could probably have been avoided." 

"I'm gon' kill my roommate." Remy sighed. "But at least he knows now, eh? Dat's out o' de way. An' he don' exactly disapprove, so dat's a plus, too." 

"Probably because he knows I mean it when I say I never want to hurt you." Logan pulled him closer, nuzzled into his hair. "He knows I meant every word."

"Oui, if I was gon' get involved wit' anyone twenty-four years older dan me, he'd definitely prefer it be you dan anyone else." Remy grinned, getting comfortable on his chest again. "Y'know, if he'd called 'bout an hour earlier, you could have denied dat you were sleepin' wit' me." 

"Damn." Logan grinned. "Yeah, guess I can never deny that again now." Remy's legs tangled with his, and he pressed a kiss to Logan's chest. "Don't regret it though." 

"Good, 'cause neit'er does Remy." 

\-- 

"C'mon, Logan, can we _please_ get cake?" Remy pleaded, draping himself over the end of the shopping cart so Logan had to stop in his tracks. "I got a real craving fo' it. _Please_?" 

"Damnit." Logan sighed. "Alright fine. Go get some damn cake." Remy grinned, and immediately pranced away to grab some. Logan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "You spoil that damn Cajun, Logan." He glanced at the list he'd made of groceries he needed to pick up, and then looked up – and groaned. Damnit. _Scott_. 

"Oh hey, Logan." He'd really hoped he'd never run into him again, but obviously someone somewhere hated him enough to make it happen again, and again, and again. "We keep running into each other, huh?" 

"Guess so." He muttered, silently pleading for Remy to hurry back. "Kinda happens when you both shop at the same store." 

"Yeah, you got a point there." Scott grinned, sliding his hands into his pockets. "So, uh, how's the writing going? I've not seen a new book of yours for a while." 

"Still in the planning stages." He lied. "How's uh… teaching, right?" 

"Got myself a placement, yeah." Scott nodded. "It's going great. Hey, I know you sometimes come into schools and stuff to talk so I was wondering if you'd be up for that? And hey, we can always go for lunch or for a drink or-," Scott broke off, glancing over Logan's shoulder. When an arm slid around his waist, Logan smiled. 

"Got de cake, cher." Remy leant forward to put it in the cart, and then made a deliberate show of kissing Logan's cheek. "You do spoil me." 

"Yeah, well. It'll keep you quiet whilst I work." He smirked, looping his arm around Remy's shoulders. "Oh, uh. Remy, this is Scott. He used to live across the street. Scott, this is Remy, my boyfriend." And didn't that feel good to say? 

"Oh. Well. Hi." Scott held out a hand and smiled politely, but Logan could tell Remy's entrance had killed his mood. Remy shook his hand, but perhaps gripped it a little too tightly. Scott kept up the smile as he pulled back, but it was a little stiffer. "You're uh… young." 

"Non, dis guy's jus' an' old man." Remy smirked, giving Logan a sly grin. "Alt'ough he's a firecracker in bed, so don' let dat fool you." Logan gave his shoulder a firm squeeze in warning, but Remy didn't seem to care. "I got de marks to prove it, actually…" And cue Remy tugging at the collar of his shirt to show off one of the more recent bites Logan had left on his skin. 

"Oh. Uh." Scott looked awkward and uncomfortable now, and Logan couldn't help but feel a bit smug. "That's… nice." 

"Now in my experience, people only point out age differences fo' two reasons. Eit'er one, dey're judgemental dickweasels who have no righ' to poke deir noses into ot'er people's business," Remy paused, and Logan had to hold back a laugh at the look on Scott's face, "or two, dey're jus' jealous 'cause dey can' get a hot piece o' ass like dis guy can." Remy smirked, and studied Scott for a moment. "So, which one are you?" When Scott merely stared, stunned into silence, Remy turned to Logan. "C'mon, cher. We still got stuff to pick up, an' den you need to get back to work, eh?" 

"Yeah, okay." Logan smiled, leaning in to give him a kiss. "Seeya, Scott." Together, they moved on, leaving Scott staring after them. As soon as they were a few aisles over, Remy burst out laughing. 

"Dat was so wort' de look on his face." He grinned, slipping his hand into Logan's back pocket. "I was jus' waitin' fo' his head to explode or somet'in'." 

"It was… entertaining." Logan agreed, resting his hand on Remy's lower back. "I'm thinking he won't bother me again." 

"Almost certainly not." Remy leant into him happily. "I won' have anyone judgin' us like dat. An' no one flirts wit' Remy's boyfriend." He kissed Logan's cheek, and then stepped away to grab a box of cereal that he knew they needed. Logan watched him for a moment, the use of third-person throwing him for a second. As Remy turned back to him, Logan actually half-expected to see black and red where he'd gotten used to seeing grey. 

As they finished off the shopping and loaded everything into Logan's truck, he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts. Remy – ghost Remy – had disliked Scott right from the start, and thinking back on things it was possible that it had been jealousy. Now Remy – the second – appeared to dislike Scott from the start, too. Another similarity between them. 

Was it possible for two entirely separate people to be so alike? In fact, if he really thought about it, the only differences between them were with appearances. Anything else and they were… basically the same person. Was that even possible? He supposed it must be. 

\--

"I give up. I'm never going to write another book. It's just not happening." Logan groaned, flopping back in his chair as he stared at an empty word document on his laptop. From where he sprawled on the sofa, Remy rolled his eyes. 

"You say dat every day, an' yet you always come back to sit dere an' do not'in' de very next day." He set aside the book he was studying from, and sat up. "You ever t'ought 'bout writing anot'er book fo' James?" 

"No." Logan shook his head, turning to look over at him. "His story is done." 

"Really?" Remy shuffled to the other end of the sofa so they were closer, and shrugged. "I mean… you left it pretty open as to what he could do next. Dat last scene… he jus' walked away from de grave. You could pick his story back up." 

"I could, yeah. I deliberately left it open, but…" He sighed a little. "I don't think I can write for him again. He's done." 

"I'm not talkin' a full novel. Maybe you could jus' do a novella, or somet'in' small, jus' to get de creative juices flowin' again?" Remy reached over and put a hand on Logan's knee, and the older man smiled and covered the hand with his own. 

"Maybe. I'll think about it." He glanced back at the blank document, and gave another sigh. "I think that's the root of the problem, though. Sure, I've written other things along the way, and since putting James to rest, so to speak, but… he was my focus. There was always something more to write with him." 

"He was a good character." Remy shifted now, and slid into Logan's lap. "Would it hurt to go back to him, an' see what he's doin' now?" 

"I don't know. I'm just worried that going back to James means going back to…" To Remy. To the love he lost. "Writing that book was hell. I only finished it for Remy, for his memory. It was his idea to give James the love interest. In fact… he was my inspiration for the whole book." 

"Well…" Remy purred, nuzzling into his cheek. "Maybe I can be yo' inspiration, eh?" Logan smiled, leaning in for a kiss. 

"Maybe." His hands slid up his thighs, and came to rest on Remy's hips. "Though keep this up and you'll just be a distraction." He grinned, and Remy laughed. "I'll consider it, though. Maybe the readers need to see how James is coping. Or not coping, if that's the case." 

"I know I'll be happy to read more." Remy kissed him, soft and sweet. "But I'm happy wit' anyt'in' you write." 

"Mm, my number one fan, huh?" Logan smiled, and then he patted Remy's thigh. "Alright, move your ass. I gotta get something done even if it's just more idea planning and no actual writing. And you have to study." 

"Yeah, yeah." Remy groaned. "Studyin' is borin'." He flopped onto the sofa, and picked up his book. "Ey, can Remy put some music on or somet'in'? He promises not to put on any Bonnie Tyler." Logan, who had been in the process of turning back to his laptop, froze and turned to glance over at Remy. "What?" 

"I…" He stared at him, not sure what it was he wanted to say. Third person again, and the reference to Bonnie Tyler. Was he just reading too much into it? Focusing too much on tiny details that probably meant nothing? "Remy used to use third person all the time." 

"Oh." Remy sat up a little. "Sorry. I sometimes do it, too. Don' know why, but… it don' happen often."

"No, it's okay, I just… I wasn't expecting it." He smiled a little. "You can put on some music. If I focus enough I won't even hear it anyway, so you won't be disturbing me." As Remy moved to put on music, Logan turned back to his laptop and tried not to think too much on how he was noticing more and more things like that. 

An hour later, and he had another few ideas planned out, and he decided that would be enough work for the day. He closed everything down and turned to Remy, who was still deep in his studying – although his fingers tapped along to the music, and he was singing quietly to himself. Logan watched him for a moment, just enjoying the view. 

God, he was pretty. 

Remy, obviously feeling eyes on him, looked up from his book, and flashed him a grin. Logan felt his heart skip a little, and he sighed. Oh god, he was so in love. He pushed up from his chair, and held out a hand to him.

"C'mon. Enough studying. I wanna take you out to dinner." Remy put his book aside and took his hand, allowing Logan to tug him up. 

"Really?" Remy smiled, sliding an arm around Logan's waist. "What's de occasion?" 

"No occasion." Logan leant in until their foreheads touched, and smiled back at him. "Just want to treat you to a nice dinner." He lifted a hand, brushed Remy's hair out of his eyes, and then he kissed him. "I love you." 

"What?" Remy pulled back, surprised, and Logan realised he'd spoken out loud. It was the first time he'd said those words to Remy – he'd imagined it would be more difficult than that, considering who he'd last said them to, but they'd just… slipped out. Maybe that was a good thing. He smiled again, his hand now cupping Remy's face very gently. 

"I love you." For a moment Remy just stared at him, but then a huge grin spread across his face. 

"You love me." He murmured. "You love Remy." When Logan nodded, Remy ducked his head, his hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. If he hadn't still been smiling, Logan would have worried that he'd made a mistake in saying it. "Dat's… dat's what he's been waitin' to hear." Remy lifted his head, and slowly opened his eyes. 

Logan's heart definitely stopped for a moment. 

Where soft grey had been, there was now red-and-black. 

Before he could react, Remy was pulling him in for a kiss, and after a moment he returned it, clutching at him almost desperately. As the kiss deepened, things began to click into place in his head – and he wasn't entirely sure if it was his own mind at work, or if there was something more to that kiss. Twenty years. Remy was born only months after his namesake had finally moved on to wherever people went when they died. They were alike in almost every way, the same mannerisms, the same personality. All those things he'd noticed, all those little things that blurred the line he'd put between Remy and Remy the Second… the way falling in love with him had felt just like falling in love with Remy the first time around. 

It was easy to scoff at such things – but if he could talk to the dead, if ghosts existed, then was it really such a stretch to believe that something like reincarnation could exist, too? Was it impossible to think that someone could be reborn, or brought back from death? 

Twenty years. Twenty years of missing Remy, of grieving over losing him, and he'd spent the last couple of months holding him, kissing him, _having_ him all over again. He pulled back from the kiss, and stared into that familiar face, focusing on those fascinating eyes, and the hair that seemed slightly more red than it had been before. 

And he knew. This was his Remy. His Remy had always been in there, somewhere, just waiting to show himself, waiting for the right moment – and now here he was. Logan didn't know how it was possible, or what had brought him back, but he didn't care. Remy was standing before him, solid and warm and _alive_ , and he was smiling so brightly that Logan couldn't help but smile back. 

"Remy loves you too, mon cher." He murmured softly, resting his hand over Logan's heart. "An' he's been waitin' a long, long time to say dat again." 

"Dinner." Logan murmured, taking his hand. "I'm taking you to dinner, and we're going to talk." He smiled, bringing his hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. Remy grinned, and pulled him in for another kiss. 

"Dinner, den." He nuzzled into his cheek, and Logan held him close for a moment, concentrating so he could almost feel Remy's heart beating against him. "An' Remy will explain everyt'in'." He nuzzled closer, and sighed happily. "Mon dieu, Remy loves you…" 

"I love you." Logan whispered. "I love you. God, I love you…" He'd never get tired of saying it. 

He could never say it enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT THE END. There is at least one more chapter to come.
> 
> And now for a quick message: this was always going to be the twist in the plot. Of course I wasn't going to just let Remy die like that (well... I might have, but it hurt too much). I'm going to touch on how it came about in the next chapter so I won't say too much here but to save time answering any comments: 
> 
> \- Yes, Remy was essentially 'reborn'. He would have been Remy even if Jean-Luc had named him Francis or Louis or any other French name he would no doubt pick. 
> 
> \- Yes, he's always been Remy, but almost in a dormant sort of way. That means Remy II, whilst still technically Remy, grew up not entirely knowing everything. He wasn't consciously Remy, so to speak. Little bits stuck with him, more slipped through over the years, and the more time he spent with Logan, the more mannerisms (etc) came back to him. Logan's declaration of love was the final key to unlocking the rest of the dormant spirit, in a manner of speaking.
> 
> \- Essentially, they fell in love twice without being entirely aware of it.
> 
> I know a couple of you weren't sure about this twist and I told you it wasn't the only twist to come, so I hope this clears things up for you!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Remy back, Logan can start living again.

It took Logan a month before he stopped thinking it was a dream. 

It was so easy to believe it, of course. It seemed so impossible that Remy was alive again – that the strength of their love had brought about a rebirth, and pulled him back into the land of the living. It was, he often mused, like something out of a book. 

They'd gone to dinner, and Remy had done his best to explain everything to him. He began with the last memory he had, of leaving Logan in his bedroom as he'd passed through the door into the land beyond – and how, once the door had closed behind him, he'd felt a strange tug that seemed to come from inside him. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the arms of his father in the form of a newborn child. 

After that first moment, however, his spirit had retreated to the background, and Remy had grown up with no conscious idea of who he had once been. Little things had slipped through, which is why he'd chosen basketball over football, and why he favoured the colour pink, but it had mostly stayed dormant. He could only explain so much because he had no idea how exactly it had happened himself, and neither of them had any experience with it before. It was only until they'd met again that more of Remy began to creep back in. 

And hearing Logan's declaration of love was the last brick of the wall to fall down, because their love was at the heart of everything. 

_"You loved Remy back to life,_ _Logan_ _."_ He'd said, grinning at him from across the table, and Logan had taken his hand and kissed his knuckles, with no words to say. 

There were still a couple of things to get used to, of course. Remy's eyes, for example. Remy the Second had been born with his father's grey eyes, which could not be changed – but Remy had the ability to switch between them at will. When interacting with people who knew him only as the young college student, he left them grey, but whenever it was just the two of them, they changed to the familiar red-and-black Logan adored. His hair, too, was still more brown than red, but that didn't matter either way. 

A week after Remy had come back, they travelled down to New Orleans for the weekend, and Remy presented himself to Jean-Luc and Mikael. As expected, they were surprised and required an explanation – but only after they'd pulled Remy into a bone-crushing embrace. The family reunited, their relationship was discussed and approved of – after all, they'd been together before. 

Logan had then called up Ororo and asked her over for dinner, and she'd met Remy for the first time. He explained the situation to her whilst Remy cooked, and though he could tell she had more questions, she simply accepted it. Over dinner, she took an interest in Remy, talking to him as the man Logan had met twenty years ago instead of the student he was now. Logan could have kissed her for that. 

Remy moved into Logan's house after another week, and the first morning Logan stepped into the bathroom and saw the pair of toothbrushes on the shelf, he almost broke down into tears. How many times had he dreamt of this, of having Remy around? And now he had it – he had the toothbrush alongside his own, the Star Trek coffee mug in the cupboard, the pink towels in the bathroom, and Remy's clothes in his wardrobe. 

The first time he'd taken a shower and stepped out to find Remy holding out his towel, Logan had thrown him over his shoulder, and carried him through to the bed. 

Life was good. 

\-- 

"What are you writing?" Logan turned, smiling as Remy leant against the doorframe in one of his t-shirts, sipping from his favourite Star Trek mug. 

"Just planning out some more stuff." He shrugged, and patted his knee. Remy grinned and immediately moved to slide into his lap, being careful not to spill any coffee. Logan took the mug from him and stole a mouthful, wincing a little at the amount of sugar that was in it. "How do you even have any teeth left?" 

"Remy takes care o' dem, o' course." Remy rolled his eyes, stealing the mug back. "Still not'in' jumpin' out at you, den?" Logan shook his head, glancing back at the laptop screen.

"Not yet. Something will come to me, I just… I wish it'd happen soon." He stroked a hand up Remy's leg, smiling when he realised Remy was also wearing a pair of his boxers. "Something wrong with your clothes?" 

"Non." Remy grinned, setting the mug down on Logan's desk before leaning in for a kiss. "Remy jus' likes wearin' your clot'es. Dat a problem?" 

"Not at all." Logan murmured, nuzzling him lovingly. "Though I'm rather fond of you wearing nothing at all." 

"Why does dat not surprise Remy?" He laughed, his fingers sliding underneath Logan's collar to stroke along warm skin. "Yo' workin' early today." 

"Well since you were taking six years in the shower, I figured I'd get an early start." He teased, kissing his forehead when Remy scowled. "Do you have much on today?" 

"Non, not today. No classes, not'in'." He sighed happily, cuddling closer to Logan, nuzzling into his neck. "Got de whole day off." Logan gave a content hum, his arms tightening around Remy for a moment. 

"Good. That means I have an excuse not to do any work." God, he could sit here like this forever and he'd never get bored. He'd always loved holding Remy, but now that he was warm and alive it was even better. He still sometimes got caught up in listening to his heartbeat. "And you know I'm all for that." 

"Procrastinator." Remy poked his stomach with a smirk. "Next time yo' publisher calls, Remy's gon' tell her dat." 

"I don't care." Logan grinned, his hand sliding up under the t-shirt. Remy actually _purred_ at the touch, and nuzzled close again. "I'm sure if she saw you she'd understand. How can I work when I have such a beautiful, gorgeous boyfriend distracting me by walking around in almost nothing?" 

"Oh, well in dat case Remy will go put on some clot'es-," he made to move, but Logan's arms tightened around him and held him in place. 

"Don't you dare." Remy laughed, and kissed him sweetly. 

"You hungry, cher? Remy could eat." He slid out of Logan's lap and picked up his mug. "Shall Remy bring you some bacon sandwiches?" Logan sighed happily at the thought.

"I'm the luckiest man alive." He reached for Remy's free hand, and entwined their fingers. "You're perfect, you know that, right?" 

"O' course." Remy smirked, giving his hand a squeeze. "You get back to not workin', an' Remy will bring you some breakfast." He bent, kissed Logan's cheek. "An' put on yo' glasses, cher." As he walked away, Logan scowled at the glasses case on his desk. He didn't really need glasses – not for everyday stuff, at least – but he was _supposed_ to wear them whist he worked. Not that he ever did, of course. 

But then Remy had found them, and insisted he wear them. 

It said a lot about how much Logan loved him that he found himself reaching for the case, and reluctantly slipping the glasses onto his face. Plus, Remy seemed to think they added to his appeal, so Logan wasn't going to complain about that. He had many moments where he was very aware of the age gap between them – even if Remy was older in spirit, quite literally, he still had the physical body of a twenty-year-old. It worried him, from time to time, that he wouldn't be enough for Remy. 

He was stupid for ever thinking it, of course, and he knew that. 

He studied the screen and the handful of ideas he'd started developing, hoping that one of them would suddenly jump off the page and smack him in the face and give him something to write out into a novel, but nothing did. Why was he having so much trouble? He'd written books without the help of spirits before, so what was the problem? He supposed it would sort itself out eventually, but he really needed _something_ to give his publisher soon. 

The framed photographs on his desk caught his eye, and he smiled. He'd put the LeBeau family photo on display once Remy had moved in, and now sitting beside it was another family photo, taken more recently – and this one included _him_ , too. The third photograph, however, was his favourite. It was just the two of them, one Mikael had taken in New Orleans without them knowing. Their fingers were loosely entwined as they leant in for a kiss, lips only just touching, completely absorbed in one another. 

"One bacon sandwich, an' a fresh cup o' coffee." He glanced up as Remy set the mug and the plate down on the desk, and he smiled. "What?" 

"Nothing." He shook his head a little, still smiling up at him. "I love you." Remy grinned, and leant down for a kiss. 

"Love you too, cher." He straightened up, and moved to flop down on the sofa with his own sandwich. "Ey, Remy's gon' need you to read t'rough his story fo' de assignment soon. T'ink it's almost done." 

"Sure." Logan sat back in his chair with his sandwich, and took a moment to enjoy the domestic atmosphere in the room. Remy had his own laptop balanced on the arm of the sofa as he sat cross-legged, plate in his lap, his notes spread across the cushion beside him. He could still remember clearly how Remy had draped himself over that very same sofa as a ghost, a book in his hands. 

And that's when the idea hit him. 

He stuffed half of a sandwich into his mouth as he turned back to his laptop, and he began typing frantically, wanting to get the idea down before he lost it again. He sat back, studied what he'd written, and grinned. Oh yes. He had it. 

"Eit'er you jus' got an idea, or you've gone all Shining on Remy." Remy glanced over from the sofa, trying to see the screen from where he sat. "All work an' no play, an' all dat." 

"I got the reference, Rem." Logan rolled his eyes. "I've got it. I know what I'm going to write." He smiled, nodding to himself. "It's been floating around in here for a while, since you put the idea there, actually. I've just never been able to form it into something more, or see how it could develop – until now." 

"Oui?" Remy stood, the remaining half of his sandwich in his hand, and he leant over Logan's shoulder. "Well den, don' keep Remy hangin'. What are you gon' write?" 

"The final chapter of James' story." He looked up at him, and grinned when a smile spread across Remy's face as he read the notes Logan had made. "He's going to get the happy ending I think he deserves." 

"Is he gon' meet a gorgeous young man who looks, acts an' sounds like de love he lost, by any chance?" Remy grinned as he finished reading. "An' are dey gon' fall in love all over again?" 

"They were fated to be together, so when death separates them forever, it's only right that the universe should bring them back together again." Logan murmured, hurriedly typing as he spoke. "Soulmates. Or something. I'll work that out later." 

"De perfect ending, cher." Remy kissed his temple, and ran his fingers gently through his hair. "You'll do it right. It'll be perfect." 

"Only because my muse is perfect." He turned his chair, and tugged Remy into his lap again. "I know why I couldn't write much of anything until now." When Remy raised his eyebrows in question, Logan smiled and pulled him in for a kiss. "I lost my inspiration when I lost you. But now I have you back, all of you, and my writer's block is gone. You were the key." 

"Glad to be o' use." Remy grinned. "Or is dis jus' so yo' publisher won' t'ink Remy's a distraction, eh?" Logan laughed, kissing him again. 

"Bit of both." He admitted, nuzzling into his hair. "It's going to be a tough ride for James. I'll be putting him through hell before he gets that happy ending, but… it'll happen." 

"Well, cher…" Remy murmured, settling against him. "Remy can' wait to read it." 

\-- 

A year down the line, and Remy graduated from college, and officially moved in with Logan. Jean-Luc and Mikael drove up from New Orleans with more of his things and got him settled in, and stuck around to attend the release party for Logan's final book in the James series, _The Final Haunting of James Thomas_. The pair of them watched with fond smiles as Logan patiently answered the questions people threw at him, all the while keeping an arm hooked firmly around Remy's waist. 

They made a great pair – Logan in the smart dark grey suit that had Remy's influence all over it, and Remy in the slim black three-piece and violet shirt that echoed of the young man who'd been shot dead in the street over twenty years ago. When Logan's editor made a speech and called for a toast, Logan pulled Remy close and kissed him, ignoring the flashes of cameras. 

And then he dropped down to one knee, and asked Remy to marry him. 

They married only a few months later. Jean-Luc and Mikael made most of the arrangements, using their money and influence to make things happen, and happen fast. Mikael's family bakery took care of the cake – Mikael himself decorated it – and they used the gardens of the LeBeau mansion for the ceremony itself. Ororo stood beside Logan, and Henri beside Remy, and when it came to their vows they echoed words they'd already exchanged twenty years earlier. 

They took each other's names, and became Logan and Remy LeBeau-Howlett. 

\-- 

_Six years later_  

Logan paced the office, talking into a headset as he scanned the script in his hands, nodding as he listened to the person on the other end. If someone had told him a few years ago that he'd be overseeing the script for a TV series based on one of his books, he might have laughed – and yet, here he was. 

"That sounds good to me, yeah." He nodded again. "I'll be in touch, thanks." He cut the call and slipped the headset off, dropping the script down onto his desk. The director was doing well with keeping him in the loop with regards to anything involving the script or the characters, and the writers kept calling to check facts with him. Of course, it helped that he had a personal connection to one of the screenwriters, who told him everything as soon as he could.

He still couldn't quite believe it was happening. He'd never imagined his books would be popular enough to warrant a TV series – but the final chapter of James' life had boosted the series, and had caught the attention of a director who had fallen in love with the idea of an author who could talk to the dead, and who solved murders on the side. Plus – and Logan hadn't told him yet – the director had asked if the eventual Cajun love interest would be played by Logan's very own Cajun love interest. 

And speaking of… 

Logan turned and studied the photographs on his desk, smiling at the biggest frame which held a photo from their wedding. He glanced at the time, and his smile widened into a grin. Remy would be home any minute. He shut down his laptop and headed out of the office. That was enough work for today. As soon as his husband walked through the door, it was _their_ time. 

He jogged down the stairs, pausing for a moment so he could bend and scoop up the sleek white cat that perched on a step, and carried the cat through to the kitchen, where another two cats sprawled on the counter, tails flicking lazily in greeting. He put down some dry food for them and topped up their water, and then he turned, smiling as he heard a key in the lock. 

With a happy bark, their big dog beat Logan to the door, tail wagging furiously as he twisted around Remy's legs, nuzzling into his hand when Remy leant down to scratch him between the ears. He was joined a moment later by their second dog, who leapt up at him with excitement. 

"Alrigh', alrigh', down girl." Remy grinned, easing her down as he closed the front door. "Let Remy get t'rough de door firs', eh?" He glanced up at Logan, eyes shifting from soft grey to red-and-black. "Evenin', cher." 

"Welcome home." He stepped over, leant in for a kiss, and then he took the child that balanced on Remy's hip, and lifted him into his arms. "And there's my little wolf pup." 

"Daddy!" The little boy grinned, throwing his arms around Logan's neck as he hugged him tightly. As Remy dropped to his knees to give the dogs a proper greeting, Logan carried their son through to the kitchen, sitting him down on the counter with the cats. 

"Had a busy day?" He called through to Remy as he grabbed a juice box from the fridge. 

"Eh, no mo' dan usual." Remy smiled, following him through with the dogs at his heels. "Guess what, t'ough." He grinned, snaking an arm around Logan's waist. 

"What?" He turned slightly, and Remy leant in to kiss his cheek. 

"Silvestre read de whole book to Remy on de way home." As Logan handed the juice box to Silvestre, he raised his eyebrows. 

"The _whole_ book?" He turned to their son, and ruffled his hair. "That's my boy. That's my clever Sly." 

"He's gon' be smart like his papa, non?" Remy rested his chin on Logan's shoulder, snuggling closer to him. 

"Reading and writing's in his blood." Logan nodded, lifting him down from the counter so he could play with the dogs, and he turned in Remy's arms to face him. "How's the writing going, anyway?" 

"Good, good." Remy nodded. "Y'know, de rate we're goin' wit' dis, if de pilot an' de firs' season go down well, we could be lookin' at a second, too." 

"Damn." Logan laughed. "Well, I guess we'll see what happens, huh?" Remy smiled, and leant in for a kiss. 

"Oui. Dey're really playin' up de romance wit' James an' Lucian. De way t'ings are, it'll open wit' dem meetin', like in de book, an' den de relationship will develop." He paused, and stepped away. "What do you fancy fo' dinner?" 

"Anything. As long as you cook it, I don't mind." He grinned. "Tell me more – Warren's been keeping me in the loop, obviously, but I like to hear it from you." When Logan had heard that the director had called in Remy as one of the screenwriters for the series, he'd been so pleased. He trusted Remy more than anyone with his characters, of course, and he knew the writing would be excellent. 

As Remy began rummaging in cupboards and things for ingredients and utensils, he laid out the first half of the first season for him, and Logan sat at the table as he listened, keeping an eye on Sly who now sat playing with the cats as well as the dogs. 

When Remy had hooked a job as a screenwriter, Logan had been so pleased for him. He had a lot of talent, and it provided him with a successful career so he could work on a novel in his own time – which Logan edited for him on a regular basis. He'd already worked on several successful movies, and _The Haunting of James Thomas_ would be his first TV series. Logan knew – hoped – it would be as successful, too. 

What a life they had, now. He was writing another set of novels himself, they had a beautiful home with two big sappy dogs and three cats, and a perfect family. Three years into their marriage, they'd talked about the possibility of starting a family, and they'd looked into their options. Adoption had been their best bet, until one of Remy's closest female friends offered to be a surrogate – and so she'd carried Remy's child for them, and nine months later, Silvestre Lucas LeBeau-Howlett was born. 

He was the light of their lives. 

"Warren put an idea to me earlier, by the way." He smiled when Remy turned in the middle of cooking. "I know you've still not selected an actor for Lucian, and I know Warren wants someone who will be as accurate as possible… and, well, he wondered if you'd be up for it." Remy nearly dropped the wooden spoon he was holding. 

"Say dat again?" 

"Warren wondered if you'd want to take the part." Logan grinned at the look on Remy's face. "You don't have to if you don't want to. Is it something you'd consider?" 

"Well…" He paused, considered. "Remy don' know. He likes to perform, don' get him wrong, but… you t'ink he could do dat? As well as write de scripts?" 

"Considering I think you could do just about anything, are you sure you want me to answer that?" He stood, and crossed to him. "Think about it." He kissed him, long and slow. "Although I'm not sure how I'll feel about you having to kiss another man." 

"Oh, please." Remy rolled his eyes, going back to cooking. "Remy'll consider it. If he don' accept, he's happy to work wit' de actor dey choose on de accent, if dey don' pick a Cajun." 

"Mm, Warren said he's going to make sure we both sign off on the actor either way. He wants to do this right." He bent to pick Sly up from the floor, and moved to put him into his chair at the table. "You want wine with dinner?" 

"O' course." Remy grinned. "What else?" 

\-- 

Logan stood in the doorway as Remy gently tucked Sly into bed, and smiled as he bent to kiss his hair as he switched on the nightlight he slept with. He very carefully crept from the room, and Logan pulled the door shut – making sure to leave a small gap so the light from the hall would shine through. 

"Y'know… it's a Monday." Logan murmured, taking Remy's hand as they descended the stairs together. "You know what that means." 

"Movie night?" Remy grinned. "We goin' fo' new, or a classic?" Logan nudged him down onto the sofa, and bent to kiss him. 

"I'm thinking a classic." He told him as he went to fish out a DVD. The dogs curled up in their beds, and the cats were stretched out with them, all sleeping peacefully. When Logan returned to the sofa, he tugged Remy close. "Mostly because I don't plan on doing much watching." 

"Is dat so?" Remy purred, catching on instantly and pressing closer to him. "What did you have in mind, den?" 

"Oh, nothing much, just…" he slid a hand up Remy's thigh as he leant in to nip at Remy's jaw. 

"Oh, well in dat case…" He shifted, straddled Logan's lap, and brought their lips together in a fierce kiss. Logan's hands made short work of removing Remy's shirt, grinning when Remy's hands pushed up under his own. "Gotta make dis quick, non? Sly could wake up." 

"Quick and quiet, yeah." He murmured, hands now working on Remy's jeans. "God, I've missed you." Remy shifted, kicking off his jeans, and Logan hurriedly lifted his hips to remove his own. 

"Really, cher? You saw Remy dis mornin'." He laughed, leaning in for a kiss. Logan tugged him closer, nipping at his bottom lip as Remy rocked down into him. 

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes, wrapping a hand around Remy's hardening length and stroking him to full hardness. "You know what I mean." Remy's fingers twisted into Logan's hair as he bucked into his hand, moaning softly. 

"We had sex in de shower de ot'er day." Remy panted out, trailing kisses down Logan's throat and along his jaw. Eager for more, Logan hooked his jeans with one foot, reaching down to slip a hand into the pocket for the lube he'd slipped in there whilst Remy had put their son to bed. 

"Friday. That was Friday." He murmured back, flipping open the cap so he could slick up his fingers. Remy kissed him again as he lifted his hips, and Logan slipped a hand between his legs, and pushed the first finger inside. Remy moaned into Logan's mouth, pushing back on his hand with need. 

"T'ree days." Remy gasped out, his back arching as Logan pushed a second finger inside, stretching him as gently as he could. "Ain' dat long, cher." He wouldn't need much more, but Logan teased him open further, drawing it out as long as he dared. 

"Used to be every day." He pointed out, finally withdrawing his fingers when Remy gave a sharp bite to his shoulder. Remy grabbed the lube and poured some into his palm, and then he wrapped his hand around Logan's length and slowly slicked him up. "Sometimes twice." 

"Dat was befo'." Remy lifted his hips again, aligned himself, and slowly sank down. Logan's argument was cut off by a long, low groan as he slid inside, his hands moving to grasp Remy's hips, supporting him. "Dieu, mon cher…" 

"Yeah, right there with ya, darlin." He murmured, digging his nails into his skin when Remy shifted, rocking against him. "Make it-," 

"Fast." Remy finished for him. "An' hard." He gave a nod, and pushed himself up, rocking back down onto him, his breath hitching sharply as Logan leant in to nip at his throat. Everything else was forgotten as Remy settled into a fast, almost unforgiving pace, his hands gripping Logan's shoulders for leverage. Logan pressed his face into Remy's neck, biting into his skin to suppress his moans, his hands tightening on Remy's hips as he assisted his movements, rocking up into him to match his pace. 

Logan brought their lips together when Remy leant in, and he wrapped one hand around his length and stroked him in time, urging him towards release. When Remy shuddered out a breath and his hips jerked sharply, Logan knew he was close. He stroked faster, bucking up against him, pushing in deeper. When he felt Remy's muscles tighten around him, he felt his own orgasm rip through him, and they came together with moans muffled by a final, fierce kiss. 

When Remy collapsed forward against him, Logan laughed breathlessly, and ran his fingers through Remy's hair – which he'd grown out over the years. 

"Damn." He murmured, nuzzling into him lovingly. Remy smiled, trailing kisses along Logan's jaw before he found his lips. "We definitely don't do that enough." 

"Non." Remy agreed, carefully lifting himself free. Logan sat up, tugged off the t-shirt he was still wearing, and used it to clean them both up. Remy settled down beside him, legs draped over Logan's, and dropped his head onto his shoulder. "Maybe we should invite Papa an' Mikael to babysit Sly fo' a few days." 

"Yeah?" Logan smiled, trailing his fingers up and down Remy's spine lightly. "So we can get it out of our systems?" He laughed again, leaning down for a kiss. "Tell me there will be nothing but sex." He paused. "And food." 

"How 'bout bot' toget'er?" Remy grinned, catching Logan's bottom lip between his teeth. "T'ink we got some chocolate sauce somewhere." 

"Mmm…" He kissed him again, soft and slow. "That sounds good." They both froze as they heard Sly make a sound above them, but when there was nothing but silence afterwards, they settled back again. "I love that little pup, I do, but-," 

"You miss bein' able to bend Remy over whenever and wherever you like." Remy grinned, reaching for his jeans and standing to tug them on. Logan inched forward, hands moving to grasp Remy's hips, and he leant in to press a kiss to his stomach. 

"I miss having you all to myself, too." He grinned, hands sliding down Remy's thighs. "But… if I had to share your heart with anyone, it would always be with our child." Remy pulled his jeans on and bent to kiss him sweetly. 

"I love you, Logan." He murmured against his lips. Logan sighed happily, and kissed him again. 

"I love you too, Rem." As Remy stepped away to shut off the movie, Logan stood and pulled on his jeans, and picked up their discarded shirts. Together, they moved up to their bedroom, and whilst Logan tossed their shirts into the laundry hamper, Remy shuffled out of his jeans and pulled on a pair of Logan's boxers, bending to pull back the sheets on the bed. Logan watched him for a moment, smiling as he pulled his hair out of his face and tied it back. 

"Logan?" Remy turned, raising his eyebrows. "You gettin' into bed or what?" Logan closed their bedroom door and kicked off his jeans, swapping them for a pair of loose pj trousers, and then joined Remy in bed. Remy curled against him instantly, sliding a leg between Logan's as he nuzzled into his neck, and he sighed happily when Logan's arms came around him and held him tightly. 

He pressed closer, leaning up for a soft kiss, purring as Logan's fingers stroked through his hair, tugging loose a few strands in the process. He settled against his chest, sighing again in content at the warmth of Logan's body, and he was just drifting off to sleep when- 

"Papa? Daddy?" He lifted his head, peering through the dark to the small figure standing in their doorway, the light from the hall snaking across the floor. 

"What's wrong, mon petit-loup?" Sly shuffled into the room in his pawprint pjs, clutching the cuddly lion his Grandpapas had given him for his birthday. 

"Bad dream." The little boy whimpered a little, which tugged at Logan's heart. 

"C'mere, kid." He sat up, patted the bed. "Come sleep in here tonight." Sly hurriedly scrambled to climb on the bed, and Remy leant down to give him a hand, smiling as he immediately burrowed down between them both. Logan wrapped an arm around him as he settled back down, and Remy kissed his forehead before doing the same. 

He watched them both as they drifted, and he ran his fingers through the coppery hair Sly had inherited from him, soothing him into sleep. Thirty or so years ago, he'd been carefree, flirtatious, in a casual not-really relationship with a beautiful girl, and he'd thought he was happy. Now, as he lay here in bed with his husband and his son, he realised he hadn't really known what happiness was. 

This was happiness, in its truest form. 

All he'd had to do to achieve it was die -and it had been  _worth it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, my friends, The Haunting of Logan Howlett has come to an end. Nine months this fic has been in the works, nine long months of pain and suffering and love - but all good things must come to an end, non? 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has seen this fic through from beginning to end, and thanks to those finding it in these last few chapters. I hope it was worth the long ride! I was always going to give them a happy ending - they just had to work for it and suffer a bit first.
> 
> For anyone following my other stories: now that THOLH is over, I'll be returning to my Remy/Logan fic Damaged Goods, as promised. Hopefully that one won't be as soul-destroying, eh?


End file.
